


Vigilantes' Dawn

by Kylia



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Season 1, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Detective Sara Lance, Expect Major Divergence from Canon, F/M, Gen, I feel like I should be adding more tags but I can't think of any right now, Lance Family Dynamics, Laurel and Oliver were Both on the Queen's Gambit, Laurel is the Black Canary From the Start, More Character and Pairing Tags May Be Added as Time Goes On, Queen Family Dynamics, Sara Wasn't
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-16 12:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14164845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylia/pseuds/Kylia
Summary: What if Oliver Queen hadn't let his commitment issues sabotage things with Laurel? What if he'd invited Laurel onto the Queen's Gambit, instead of Sara? And what happens in Starling City when, five years later, The Arrow and the Black Canary, together, go after the List and the rest of the City's criminals? And what happens when Detective Sara Lance finds out her sister is one of the two Vigilantes that are bringing on the dawn of a new age?





	1. The Prodigals' Return

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Arrow. Oh man oh man, if I ran CW-DCTV, so much stuff would be different. 
> 
> Thanks are extended to WillozSummers for beta-reading
> 
>  **Author's Note:** This first chapter is a little shorter and slower than most will be, ideally, but I wanted to set some stuff up. We'll see things from Laurel's POV and Sara's POV the most, but there will be Oliver POV scenes as well. In general, I'll try to avoid rewriting scenes that happened exactly as they did in canon with no deviation - in general, if I don't include a scene in the fic and I don't reference any changes to it, it happened more or less the same in canon, unless the course of the AU would render it impossible.
> 
>  **Author's Note 2:** Okay, so, I'm going to sketch out the premises of the AU here, because trying to show it all via flashbacks would be impractical at best, and come off as badly written exposition at worst (An advantage of fanfiction is that we all know the basic material and I can explain things via A/N)
> 
> The changepoint is before the Queen's Gambit - Oliver, while he still does get afraid of the commitment as he and Laurel move their relationship forward, does not make the choice to sabotage things via Sara - so no cheating, and no inviting Sara onto the Queen's Gambit.  
> Instead, he asks Laurel to come with him on the Yacht, sort of a chance to unwind and relax before she takes the LSAT. Essentially he's also using it as a 'ease into living together' thing - it's just a vacation, after all, but they'll be there on the Yacht for weeks.
> 
> The majority of the five years happen the same way for Oliver, broadly - Oliver initially believes Laurel is dead, which of course fucks him up, then she arrives on the island with Ivo, then after things go down with Slade, he assumes she's dead again - but Laurel ends up in the League. Laurel and Nyssa do not get together romantically, but they do become close.
> 
> At some point while Oliver is in Russia, Laurel is on a League mission in Russia, and that's when they meet, both realize the other is alive, and after an emotionally messy and fraught reunion, Laurel, who hates what she does for the League (but felt trapped and hopeless) leaves the League (after faking her death for their benefit) and once Oliver is done in Russia, she returns with him to Star City. Which is where the story starts.
> 
> Obviously, by switching Laurel and Sara, things change in Starling City, but those are things I can explore in the fic itself.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 1: The Prodigals' Return

_ Looking back on the history of the so-called 'Age of Superheroes', while masked vigilantes, even people with... unusual powers can be traced well before the official start of the period, it is with the rise of the Arrow and the Black Canary - or as we know them today, Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance - in Starling City that really kicked off the rise of major public awareness of these superheroes, of the vigilantes - and all the good and bad that came with them. _

_ It all started one day in October, 2012, when two people were rescued from a small island in the South China Sea... _

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**Starling City Police Department**

**October 8th, 2012**

Detective Sara Lance of the Starling City Police Department was not, at least at the moment, a happy woman.

Of course, as far as she was concerned, it was hard to qualify as a happy woman when you were the newest Detective in the SCPD and being assigned the cases no one else wanted. The ones no one expected to be solved, or that were unpleasant in some other way.

Sighing deeply, Sara shuffled the crime scene photos on her desk, as if rearranging them would give her some magical insight she hadn’t had before. Unsurprisingly, it accomplished nothing.

_ No witnesses, and no leads until the lab can get to me, and given how backed up they are… _

Sara didn’t regret her choice to become a cop. When Laurel had gotten onto that damn yacht with Oliver, Sara hadn’t had any clue  _ what _ she wanted to do with her life. Not really. Just aimlessly puttering around, partying harder than she should…

And then she’d gotten the news. The  _ Queen’s Gambit _ had been lost, all hands.

The events of the day they’d all found out, when Moira had come to tell them personally, were burned into her memory. As was the day when her parent’s marriage shattered completely just a few months later and she was told they were getting a divorce.

Sara had never planned on following her Dad’s footsteps in becoming a police officer. The whole cause of justice thing – that had been Laurel’s plan, her goal, once she became a lawyer.  _ Dinah Laurel Lance, always trying to save the world. _

None of that, that crusading zeal, had appealed to her at all. Seemed… too much work.

But her sister’s death had forced Sara to reevaluate herself, and what she wanted out of her life. And seeing her father spiral downward after the divorce had only confirmed her choice for her. She was all he had now, and he was all she had.

She wanted to help people, be close to her father, and honor Laurel’s memory. And she wanted to  _ do _ something with her life.

And so… here she was. And for all the annoyance she felt at being treated like the newbie she was, or at the occasional whisper that she had only become a Detective so fast because of her father… there was nothing else she’d rather be doing with her life.

The sound of her ringing cell phone jolted her out of the case file and out of her roaming thoughts.

“Lance here,” she said as she answered.

“Sara – are you at the station? Is your father there?"

"Mrs. Queen?" Sara spoke quietly, half covering her mouth with her hand.. She didn't hate the Queen Family, what was left of it, for Laurel's death, not like her father did... indeed, she'd tried her best to stay connected with them - especially Thea. Sara could only wish her efforts to help Thea not make the same mistakes she had in her youth had actually worked. As it stood... they really hadn't.

But the Queens had lost loved ones too - and worse than she had. And they understood. So she'd stayed in touch with Moira.

"I am... and... Dad's here too... why? Is something wrong? Is it Thea-?" 

"It's not Thea." Moira said, her voice breaking a little. "Sara - Sara... it's Oliver and Laurel. They're alive."

**Starling General Hospital**

**October 10th, 2012**

Sara wasn't sure what was worse - the stiff, almost robotic way her sister was standing in the other room, or the litany of damage to her body the doctor was rattling off to her and her father. 

"Her body is covered in scars... there's a major second-degree burn across her back... she's got several broken bones - her left arm twice, based on the X-Rays, and few of them weren't allowed to heal properly." The doctor lifted the page on the clipboard, apparently ready to keep listing still more injuries.

"Has she - has she said anything about what happened?" Her father interrupted softly, holding onto Sara's hand tightly as he turned to the doctor. Sara felt a surge of sudden gratitude for her dad - she didn't want to hear still more about all the hell her sister must have gone through.

The doctor shook his head. "No. Neither of them have said anything about it. I can only guess at how traumatic whatever they went through in the last five years was. But they didn't take well to being separated, even for testing and X-Rays. They've obviously relied on each other for survival to a very significant extent on that island. My guess would be that it would be for the best that she and Mr. Queen aren't kept apart for long periods of time, for the immediate future."

He looked from her father back to Sara. "I'll tell you what I told Mrs. Queen about her son. The Laurel you lost might not be the one here, now. You should prepare yourselves."

Sara swallowed slowly, but she knew how right he was to warn them. She'd seen the effects horrible experiences could have on people as a police officer, and Laurel had five years of it. 

"Can we - speak with her?" Sara asked softly. 

"Of course," the doctor stepped aside and Sara followed her father as he walked into the hospital room. 

"Laurel?" Her dad said quietly, as if speaking too loudly might cause him to wake up and find out this was all some dream. Not for the first time, Sara pinched herself lightly... but she didn't wake up... this was real.

Her sister was alive.

Laurel turned to look at them and the look in her sister's eyes was enough to make Sara's heart ache. She really did have that distant, removed look... but it softened just a little, and what looked like almost a smile played across her face for a moment. 

"Dad... Sara," She walked towards them slowly, and then her father drew close.

"You're alive... my baby girl," He wrapped her in a tight hug that Laurel returned, but it was an awkward, almost unsure motion. But Sara saw a hint of tears in her sister's eyes as the hug finally ended and Sara stepped forward, hugging Laurel herself, finally letting herself accept that this was happening. This was  _ really _ happening.

"It's really you," Sara said after a moment, unable to stop her eyes watering. "You're really here." She took a deep breath, not letting the awkwardness of her sister's return hug bother her, understanding what must be behind it. 

"I'm here," Laurel said softly. She looked past them, to the door, opening her mouth to ask the obvious question, but her dad answered it before she could.

"Your mom she - she, uh... she's on her way. She doesn't - she doesn't live in Starling anymore," He explained. Sara watched Laurel's eyes go to her dad's hand, the missing ring and he nodded. "Yeah... but this isn't the time for that. This is about you, you being alive!" He put her hand on Laurel's shoulder. "I don't even know where to start... what happened to you and Queen?"

"We got to one of the life rafts and eventually we washed up on the shore of an island. We stayed alive." Laurel answered tersely. "He saved my life, Dad. More than once." Laurel's tone was still quiet, but Sara heard that tiny note of reproach in her sister's voice. Dad had never approved Laurel dating Oliver, not really, but she'd always insisted there was more to him than seemed on the surface.

_ I guess she was right. _

"Laurel, if he's the reason you're alive to come back to me, I'll happily eat crow on every bad thing I ever said about him." Her dad responded, smiling a little. "How about we see about getting you out of this hospital?"

Laurel nodded. "That... that sounds good." She looked over at Sara and her eyes fell to the badge at her belt. 

Sara nodded. "After you - after we thought you died... I couldn't just keep wasting my life. Just made detective six months ago." She couldn't help the pride in her voice as she said that.

"You were twenty, Sara. You weren't wasting your life," Laurel responded, but she went on, "But I'm glad you... you found a calling. That you're helping people." Laurel wrapped her arms around her middle, looking around, "I know the doctor wants to keep me here longer but... I'm... I'm okay. Promise. Can we... can we go home?"

"Of course. I'll go talk to that doctor," her father said, pulling Laurel in for another brief hug, Laurel's return of it still looking more like going through the motions, but then he left the room quickly.

They stood silent, almost awkwardly for a long few moments, and Sara took the chance 

"What... what happened to you? All those injuries... the doctor..?" She didn't want to pry, but she had to know, had to ask. It was  _ Laurel _ and hearing all that had happened to her, the scars, the burns, the broken bones...

"The island... it was... it was hell." Laurel answered softly. "If it hadn't been for Oliver... if..." she trailed off, and Sara held up a hand, interrupting.

"Don't... don't force yourself to talk about it you aren't ready, Laurel," her burning curiosity took a backseat to Laurel's wellbeing. 

Laurel nodded, "Thank you. I... I just don't - I don't want to think about it. At least not right now."

"I understand, I do. Even six months as a detective and I'm learning just how..." Sara trailed off, not wanting to really think about her sister, the strong, idealistic,  _ brilliant _ girl she'd looked up to - and resented, granted - could be... damaged, by the hell she experienced, whatever it was exactly. She changed the topic somewhat. "You and Oliver... alone, on the island for five years." She smirked a little, trying to put a teasing tone into her voice.

Thankfully, Laurel offered a slight smile - obviously just humoring her, but still. "If I had any doubts about wanting to spend the rest of my life with Oliver... well... I don't now."

"The doctor said you two didn't - you didn't take well to being seperated well... are you sure you're fine to just... go back to Dad's apartment? We... after Mom... Dad sold the house. I have my own place and-"

"I'll... I'll manage. We're... we're back in civilization. I can... I can be separate from Oliver without," Laurel bit her lip for a second, then started again. "On the island... we got separated, at one point. For days - I'm not sure how long... time... was weird, on the island. I thought... I thought he was dead - he thought the same about me... we..." she trailed off. "We didn't spend any time that far from each other, after that. But..." she laughed, sounding actually a little genuine in her humor.

"Now we can just call each other, if we get separated." She went quiet for a moment, and then, "Is there any chance it could be at your apartment? Not - not Dad's? I just... I don't want him treating me like I'm made of glass... and you know he will."

_ True. _ Not that Sara wasn't trying to be gentle too, but it would be easier for her not to go that far. Dad hadn't been exactly  _ pleased _ that Sara had gone into the police, after all. Not at first.

"Of course," Sara nodded, "I only have the one bed - I can take the couch and-"

Now it was Laurel's chance to hold up her hand, interrupting Sara, "I won't make you sleep on your couch, Sara. I slept on rocks and dirt - a couch would be a nice change of pace."

**Starling General Hospital**

**October 10th, 2012**

Laurel hadn't lied to her sister, about not wanting to have her dad treat her like glass. But it would be easier to work out of Sara's apartment until she and Oliver could find a place. They'd be freer to do their work from there - well, some of it, anyway. 

_ Assuming his family lets him out of their sight. _ Moira Queen wouldn't want Oliver to move out, but she'd probably be more okay with it if he was moving in with Laurel. 

_ Mom always thought the fact that I loved you was proof that whatever else, she'd raised me right. _ It was something Oliver had told her, on the Yacht, a few hours before it had gone down. Before their lives had changed.

Laurel closed her eyes for a long moment, then nodded again. "The couch is fine... Sara, really. Oliver and I... I mean, we were already talking about moving in together before... before. So... we figure..."

"That you'll move in together now? Makes sense." Sara smiled and gave her another quick hug. "At least - at least you still have him. You know? And like you said, no more doubts about spending your life with him."

"None," Laurel agreed. The door opened again and her father returned with the doctor, Mrs. Queen and Oliver in tow. Oliver walked past them to stand by her side - she took his hand in hers, holding on.

_ Just because we can be separated doesn't mean I want to be. _ Two and a half years, after defeating Slade, thinking Oliver was dead. A chance sighting in Russia... if she hadn't lost sight of her target, she may not have even seen Oliver at all... may not have realized he was alive...

_ I'd still be with the League. _

And Laurel wasn't sure how much her soul would have been able to take staying with them for much longer, even given... everything. The costs of leaving the league. And sooner or later, they'd realize that she hadn't died in Moscow.

_ I'm back - publicly. There's no way they can just... they can just come after me. Too much exposure. _ That was her hope.

"I'd really rather keep the both of you here overnight, for observation, run a few more tests, but... your parents tell me you'd both rather leave."

"We missed five years with our families, doctor," Oliver said quietly. "We just want to go home." Laurel nodded in agreement.

"Well, I'd like for both of you to come in for some follow-up in a few days, but otherwise... you're free to go," He wrote something in on his clipboard.

"Laurel - Quentin, Sara," Mrs. Queen said as the doctor turned away and left the room, "I'd like to - I'd like to ask you all to come to the Manor for dinner, at least... just our families. Together."

"If Laurel's good with that, I can be," her father said after just a second. Then he held out a hand, "Mrs. Queen, I've been... unfair to your family, hating you for what happened to Laurel. Sara kept telling me I was being stupid but uh... well, stupid is sometimes my speciality. You lost people you loved... and while you have Oliver back, and I have Laurel back... you still..."

He trailed off then cleared his throat, starting again. "Look, I just want to apologize, for being such an ass."

"Apology accepted, Quentin," Mrs. Queen held out her hand and they shook. 

**Dining Room, Queen Manor**

**October 10th, 2012**

"Okay, what else did you miss," Tommy Merlyn started as the maid took away their plates. Moira Queen had said family only, but for all intents and purposes, Tommy  _ was _ the brother Oliver never had, and so here he was. Besides, while she'd never been as close with Tommy as Oliver had, he'd been her friend too.  _ Hopefully he still will be, for both of us, whatever else changed. _

"Superbowl winners: Giants, Steelers, Saints, Packers, Giants again. A black president, that's new. Oh, and 'Lost'? They were all dead, I  _ think. _ "

"You missed the last three  _ Harry Potter _ movies," Sara added. 

"Three?" Laurel blinked, "They'd come out with the 5th movie already when I-"

"They broke book seven into two movies. It sounds like it was just a gimmick to make money, but it actually works pretty well," her sister explained. 

"So... a lot to catch up on," Laurel considered. Not that they'd really have time to stay abreast of all the pop culture they'd missed. 

"What was it like there?" Thea interjected suddenly, looking from Oliver and then over to her.

Laurel blinked for a moment, as everyone at the table went silent. Finally, Oliver answered first:

"Cold."

_ Oliver... _ Laurel bit her lip then spoke: "There were... a lot of trees. No beds... a lot of food we burned on the fire trying to cook it, at first." The truth of all that, of course, was dubious, but they'd prepared their stories about their 'time on the island' well. 

"Since you two have a lot to catch up on, why don't we do the city tomorrow?" Tommy suggested. 

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Moira nodded.

"I'd love to, Tommy, but... Mom's plane lands tomorrow morning," Laurel replied, looking over at her dad. "You said seven thirty, right?"

He nodded. "She took the earliest flight she could... she suggested we should meet at Sara's place." There were so many questions Laurel wanted to ask about the divorce, the whys and the wherefores - was it something that had been brewing beforehand, that she hadn't noticed? Or was it all after her 'death'? 

"Then it'll be just the two of us, maybe meet up with Laurel later?" Tommy suggested, and Oliver nodded. 

"Afterwards," he added, looking at Walter, "then - I was hoping to swing by the office."

Walter equivocated, and Laurel wondered what he was trying to hide. "Well, there's plenty of time for all that - Queen Consolidated isn't going anywhere-" before he could finish, Raisa tripped and nearly fell on him, starting to apologize, but Oliver replied in Russian, telling her not to worry. 

"Dude, you speak Russian?" Tommy's incredulity was matched by everyone else at the table apart from her. 

"I didn't realize you took Russian at college, Oliver," Walter started, but he was interrupted again, this time by Oliver. 

"And I didn't realize you wanted to sleep with my mother, Walter ."

"Oliver!" Laurel hissed at him as the table went silent - again. "Could you - could you excuse us a moment?" She stood up and grabbed Oliver's hand, all but dragging him out of his chair, but he followed her out of the dining room into the hallway, closing the door behind them.


	2. The Crusade Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Yeah, we all know, Arrow is not mine, etc, etc.
> 
> **Author's Note:** Just in case anyone wonders at some point - I do not know the source comics for Arrow at all and I have no interest in reading them (as a medium, comics just aren't my cup of tea). This is an Arrow (TV) fanfic, and I will not be incorporating any comics material that isn't in the CWDCTV shows or associated universe in some fashion. I know a lot of Lauriver fans are, unlike myself, big fans of the comics, but we're not going to see some sort of comics loyalty here, in any fashion.
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested (I usually mention it once per fic or so) I have a tumblr, .com, where I make various commentaries on my fandoms and fandom in general and discuss, from time to time, my fanfics. If you ever wanna ask me about my fics, that's a good place to go for that.
> 
> Thanks again to WillOzSummers for beta-reading. Her tumblr is ravenclawjuliawicker.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 2: The Crusade Begins

_There's a lot about this early period that's poorly documented, only told to people well after it happened, muddling up the historical record with all the flaws of human memory. Much of it can be corroborated, to varying degrees, with news reports and the like, but when the Arrow and the Black Canary began, they weren't exactly thinking about what people more than a hundred years later might wonder about them and their actions._

_And so, much of our understanding of those early days, especially their first year in operation, requires a somewhat "Sherlock Holmes" approach to history, trying to piece disparate clues into a single, semi-coherent narrative._

_Sometimes, we're not all that successful._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**Hallway, Queen Manor**

**October 10th, 2012**

Laurel waited until they were in the hallway before she poked Oliver in the chest, not caring if she used a little too much force - not that Oliver showed any sign that he was bothered by it.

"Oliver, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Her voice was a low hiss. This was _not_ how things needed to start out. Yes, she'd been surprised to see that Moira Queen had remarried, but after five years, it wasn't that hard to believe.

And unlike Oliver, she'd never had rose colored glasses when it came to his parents marriage - Robert Queen hadn't been the most faithful of husbands... and that marriage sometimes seemed to exist in name only anyway.

"I'm not going to just sit there and say _nothing_ when my mother and my father's friend are-"

"What, remarried?" Laurel interrupted, not letting him finish. "How many women did you cheat on me with, before the yacht?" She didn't need to ask the number - not anymore, anyway.

"Laurel-" Oliver started, and she could tell from his tone he was about to apologize again. Laurel cut him off a second time.

"Oliver, I forgave you for all that," and she really did, even if she knew some of the friends she'd had before... before the Yacht would think she was crazy for doing so. But then, they hadn't lived the last five years she had, that Oliver had. "That's not why I'm bringing it up. And I know you won't again. But it does mean that you are the _last_ person who has any right to get upset with _anyone_ else over perceived infidelity!"

"Besides, shouldn't you be happy that your mom is happy? That she's found someone she loves and who loves her?"

"I..." Oliver opened his mouth, then shut it again, slowly. He let out a long sigh. "I just..." Then he shook his head. "I suppose it's not as bad as finding out your parents are divorced... Laurel, I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have - and... you're going to be seeing your mom tomorrow..."  

Trailing off, Oliver just pulled her in for a hug, holding her close for a moment, and Laurel returned the gesture, resting one hand on his shoulder.

"I don't think it'll be easy, trying to handle the inevitable..." Laurel trailed off.

"Awkwardness?" Oliver offered.

"Awkwardness, that sounds right. And I - was I the reason they got divorced? Was there something lingering there, that I missed, or... after I was presumed dead, did-" Laurel shook her head, trailing off. _Did I have my own rose-colored glasses for their marriage?_

"You can't keep wondering about that," Oliver murmured, and Laurel nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. It would drive her mad, wondering about that, blaming herself for her parents’ divorce. Just like driving herself mad about people she couldn't save, couldn't help helped no one - and would just make her crazy.

_So much you just have to accept you couldn't stop, not all by yourself._

"I know... I know." She took a breath. "We should go back in, finish with dinner. And you need to apologize to your mom, and Walter."

"You're right. You're right," Oliver sighed and they pulled apart, Oliver taking her hand in his. Together, they walked back into the dining room, and Oliver looked at his mother and - well, technically his stepfather.

Taking a breath, Oliver said, "Mom... Walter... I - I just wanted to... apologize. I was just... thrown off, and... It's going to be something I'll have to get used to. I'm sorry for- reacting badly."

"It's okay." Moira replied after a moment, sharing a look with Walter, then sending a small, appreciative glance Laurel's way. "I don't want you to think we did anything to disrespect your father's memory. But-"

"You thought he was dead. He -" Oliver's voice broke. "He _was_ dead. I understand. I-" He trailed off and looked at Walter. "I wasn't trying to make you feel uncomfortable." Laurel squeezed his hand supportively. This wasn't easy for Oliver, and it was probably going to take time for him to really be comfortable with this, but...

It was the right thing to do.

_How am I going to feel when I see mom, and dad and see how uncomfortable they're probably gonna be around each other?_

"It's quite alright, Oliver," Walter replied. "It's understandable that this," He reached over and took his wife's hand in his, "would be a surprise to you."

Tugging Oliver back towards his seat, Laurel sat down and looked around at the table. "Sorry about - about that. Where were we?"

**Sara Lance's Apartment**

**October 10th, 2012**

"And here's the kitchen. Tiny, I know, but I don't use it that much, so it balances out," Sara finished giving Laurel the five-cent tour of her cramped apartment. She didn't make a lot of money on a detective's salary, and she didn't need a lot of space.

_I pretty much just sleep in here and that's about it._ Okay, that wasn't entirely accurate, but she was working the long hours she'd seen her dad work growing up, and then some, being the new detective on the totem pole.

"I take it you haven't gotten any better at cooking, then?" Laurel offered with a small laugh that, to Sara's ears, sounded a little forced. _Trying to act like she's doing better than she is._ "I mean, you haven't burned the apartment building down, so..."

Sara winced, remembering the disaster when she'd tried to cook for mother's day one time when she was 16. The house hadn't burned down, but she'd just about destroyed the oven. "I haven't set off the smoke alarms. If we were to have breakfast before leaving to meet Mom at the airport. I wouldn't kill you, but..." She shook her head. "Not really."

"Sara, after the island, anything cooked in a real kitchen would be better." Laurel turned her head back to look through the doorway back to the couch in the living room. "Do you have spare blankets, or-"

"Laurel-" Sara started, then bit her tongue, making a guess. "I'm not going to be able to convince you to take the bed and let me have the couch for the night, am I?"

"Nope." The glint in Laurel's eyes was reminiscent of all those times when they were kids Sara hadn't been able to wheedle her older sister into doing this or that thing Sara had wanted her to do. Just... a little harder. _More_ certain. "Not sure what I'd know to do with a real bed, just yet. A pillow alone would be _amazing_."

"Pillows in short supply on the island?" Sara joked, and Laurel nodded.

"You have no idea," Laurel responded. "But I'm not really tired just this second anyway. Catch me up on _you_. I didn't just miss five years of Superbowls and movies. I missed five years of my little sister's life." Laurel went over to the couch and sat down, and after a moment, Sara joined her sister on it. "You're a detective now, but... I mean, what else? Are you dating anyone? What's your life like besides the job and... I mean... I missed everything."

"I'm still the same annoying little sister I was five years ago, I promise... just... well, I had to learn responsibility. And-" Sara gave a humorless laugh. "Well, these days it doesn't feel like there's much of anything outside my job. I think I may have inherited dad's workaholic tendencies. Though you did too, so," She shrugged, smiling a little. "I knew it would be a lot of work, but I didn't - I dunno, I didn't realize all the... paperwork. The dull parts. It's like college, but occasionally you arrest someone."

This time, Laurel's laugh wasn't forced at all, though it was still a soft sound, as if she wasn't used to exercising the necessary muscles to laugh. _Not that much chance for humor on that island, I'm guessing._

"As for... seeing anyone. No. Not since senior year of college." Sara bit her lip. Intellectually, she had absolutely no reason to believe that Laurel would have a problem with her being bi. She'd fought with her sister yeah, over stupid sibling stuff, but she'd never doubted that when it really counted, Laurel would always love and support her. And Laurel was pretty far from being homophobic, so...

But she couldn't pretend that, emotionally, she was a little worried. It could be a bit of a big thing to drop on her sister right after she's returned, but it was going to come up at some point or another, and probably soon.

"She - she didn't really like the idea of dating a police officer, so broke things off about halfway through the year." It hadn't been a super-serious relationship, at the end of the day. She hadn't been happy about it, but it was what it was. "I've just been too busy since for anything serious." A few hook-ups and flings was enough for her for the time being.

"She?" Laurel raised an eyebrow. "So..."

"I'm bisexual," Sara nodded, "Looking back there were some things - but I really realized it a little over four years ago." That tiny worried part of herself braced for any negative fallout.

There wasn't any, of course - Laurel gave her sister a quick hug, holding her tightly for a moment. It was just as awkward as the hug in the hospital, but it was the thought behind it that really mattered. Sara returned the hug, chastising that voice in the back of her head for being an idiot, and having a small mental sigh of relief.

"I love you," Laurel said, pulling back. Her sister must have seen that hint of relief in her face, because she went on, "Wait, did you think I'd have a problem with-"

Sara held up her hand, two fingers very close together but not quite touching. "A little tiny bit," she smiled ruefully as she said that. "Stupid, I know, but... it's like with mom and dad. They'd already divorced by the time I was ready to come out to them, so it wasn't at the same time or anything... both times I got all ready to have, you know, defend myself, the whole 'I'm not undecided', 'it's not a phase'... all the cliches. I didn't have to. I didn't really think I'd have to but... I was ready to... and...." She trailed off a moment.

"It was nice to have it confirmed." Sara confirmed.

"Well, it's good that I don't have to, to - yell at either of our parents for being terrible about it," Laurel commented, and Sara got the distinct impression that her sister had meant to say something other than 'yell' before she'd chosen that verb.

**Sara Lance's Apartment** **  
** **October 11th, 2012**

The storm shouldn't have kept her awake, and it really wasn't what was keeping her from getting to sleep. It wasn't helping but...

Well, Sara was not looking forward to the meeting with mom and dad. She might have been closer with her mother in a lot of ways, before... the Queen's Gambit was lost, but after the divorce, after her dad ran to the law and Sara 'ran after him'...

_I didn't become a cop just to be close to dad..._

No. She'd done it because of Laurel, of wanting to feel like she was being a sister Laurel would have been proud of... and since, she'd come to realize that she... liked the work. Feeling like she was doing her tiny part to make the world a better place, despite all the bureaucracy and... scut work of being a detective...

And the challenge, too, when she could actually help bring a murderer to justice.

But her mom always felt like Sara joining the Starling City Police Department had been her 'picking her father's side.' It had... strained things between the two of them.

_And of course there's just mom and dad being in the same room..._ But this wasn't about her, or even about mom and dad, really. It was about Laurel.

It was the dreading of the awkwardness that was getting to her, it was the... well, it was trying to wrap her head around everything.

_All those injuries... did they just... happen from living on an island alone?_ They had to, they were alone there, on that island, but - what happened to them? What happened to her sister, what happened to Oliver? In all the years she'd known Oliver through him dating her sister, he'd never been so... serious, as she'd seen him there at that dinner.

_Which makes sense but-_ Sara was pulled out of her thoughts by a crashing/thud sound in the living room. _Laurel._ Sara was up and out of bed in an instant, resisting her instinctive urge to grab her gun, but going into the living room all the same.

Laurel had fallen off the couch, tangled in blankets, struggling against... something in her dream - or nightmare - murmuring something over and over and over again.

"Laurel?" Sara tried to call her sister out of whatever nightmare she was lost in/having... but it didn't work. Crouching down, Sara put a hand on Laurel's shoulder, saying her name again: "Laurel?"

The reaction this time was immediate. Laurel's eyes snapped open and she lunged up, trying to grab Sara by the neck. It was only barely that Sara got out of the way, and the blow that landed on her shoulder _hurt._ Dropping back, Sara saw Laurel's widen as she realized where she was, and who she'd attacked.

"Sara! Oh god I'm- I'm so sorry..." She repeated her apology several times, but Sara shook her head, rubbing at her shoulder.

"Laurel - it's okay. It was - it was just a dream. You're safe." She went over to her sister and - carefully - pulled her into a hug. Laurel was too shaken to return it, murmuring another apology before falling silent.

_What happened to her on that island?_

**Parking Lot, The Glades**

**October 11th, 2012**

Oliver watched Laurel get out of Sara's car. To anyone else, Laurel's expression would have been unreadable, but to Oliver...

"That bad?" He asked, as his girlfriend drew closer.

"No... not bad... just... awkward. Very awkward. I'd really rather not talk about it." Laurel said softly after a brief sigh. She turned around and waved back to Sara, who nodded and drove off. Laurel look over at Tommy. "And how did the morning go for you two?"

"Showed him the new sights around town, caught him up on more. Then he wanted to drive by his dad's old steel plant on the way here. Why did you two want to meet down here in the Glades anyway? This whole section of the city's gone to crap."

"Less of a chance of paparazzi," Laurel said quickly, and Oliver was still a little surprised at how easily Laurel lied, and how well. Five years ago, even small lies had been unacceptable to her. But...

_Two and a half years in the League of Assassins... everything we went through..._

It was his fault she'd changed. She was still, at her core, the same idealistic woman she'd been but she was... harder. And all because he'd asked her to come on the yacht with him.

"I suppose there is that," Tommy agreed. "So where did you want to go then? It's only just past two, and all the best hangout spots are still closed for _hours_."

Oliver started to give an answer when he heard the screeching sound of tires turning hard into the mostly empty parking lot, then another car coming in from the other side of the lot - four men in identical red demonesque masks stepped out, two from each car - and Oliver felt the sting of a dart in his neck-

His hand flew to the dart, pulling it out, but it was too late - Laurel and Tommy were hit right after him and then-

Black.

**Parlor, Queen Manor**

**October 11th, 2012**

"So let me get this straight, a guy in a green hood and some blonde woman with a mask wearing all black just... flew in and took the kidnappers out? All four of them armed with guns?" Oliver heard the skepticism in Detective Lance's voice, but the hostility he'd long grown used to hearing from the man was gone.

_I guess he meant it when he apologized, that he was willing to give me a second chance._ That was... that was a relief. Quentin Lance had never liked him before, never thought him good enough for his daughter. Which, as far as Oliver was concerned, was true, but he'd never planned to stop Laurel from dating him if she thought he was worth it. Though she had given him a lot of second chances before the _Queen's Gambit_ , he didn't plan on making her need to decide if she wanted to give him another. That had been his vow when they found each other again in Russia, and he had every intention of sticking to it.

"That's what happened, Dad," Laurel said quietly, squeezing Oliver's hand. "We're not lying."

"Not saying you are, but it's a pretty tall order to believe. I mean, who were they? Why'd they kill those guys but leave you three alone?"

"Find them and you can ask?" Oliver suggested. "I wasn't going to argue the whole 'leaving us alone' thing. The two of them... they killed the guys in the masks and then cut the zip ties and let us go. Didn't say anything."

"What about you, Merlyn?" Lance held up two sketches, one of a nondescript man in a hood, and the other a blonde in a mask who didn't much look like Laurel. "You see either one?"

Neither of them had planned on starting things so soon - they'd hoped to have a few months to get ready before they started the mission - started dealing with the list, and started addressing all the crime in Starling City. The people on the list weren't alone in making this city suffer. That was the deal he'd made with Laurel - they do both. Work together and separately to clean up the streets of all the city's criminals, as much as they could.

But they'd expected to have time to prepare, to separate the emergence of the vigilantes from their return to the city. The kidnapping - and the implication. It was easy to follow - someone else had known about the list. And they wanted it kept secret.

All but clear proof that what had happened to the _Queen's Gambit_ wasn't an accident.

"I - I was still out of it. I saw movement, but everything was blurry," Tommy shook his head. "Sorry."

"Were you able to identify the men?" his mother asked Lance. The detective shook his head.

"No. Scrubbed identities, untraceable weapons. Pros, in other words."

"Kidnapping seems the most likely motive, given that," Lance's partner added. "We'll do more digging, but you'll probably want to stay careful, Mr. Queen."

"I'll do my best," Oliver said.

"If any of us remember anything else," Laurel added, "I'll let you know, dad. These two may have rescued us, but they're murders. I'm not okay with that." Oliver nodded in agreement, as did Tommy.

"Alright." Quentin gave his daughter a quick one-armed hug and a light kiss on the cheek. "You need a ride back to Sara's place, or-"

"I'll stay here with Oliver for a bit, at least," Laurel said after seeming to think it over for a few moments.

"Fair enough. We'll - we'll keep you all posted if we learn something more, much as we can." Lance turned back to Oliver's mother and Walter and gave them each a brief nod. "Mrs. Queen. Mr. Steele."

"Thank you, Detectives," His mother said as Lance and his partner headed out of the parlor, towards the front door.


	3. Respective Targets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Arrow isn't mine. Is Lauriver Canon? No? Then I don't own it.
> 
> Thanks to WillOzSummers for beta-reading

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 3: Respective Targets

_In hindsight, of course, it seems almost laughably obvious that the Arrow - then known to the public as The Hood - was Oliver Queen, and the Black Canary - called 'The Banshee' by most at first - was Dinah Laurel Lance. The timing, all the coincidences that would build up over the months and years..._

_At the time, of course... well, who would have thought a playboy billionaire would grab a bow and arrows and practice their archery lessons on other members of his own class? The answer, of course, is really no one. And with the Hood dominating most of the speculation in that first year, most people didn't even really think to draw connections between the lower-profile, but arguably more effective, Banshee and the archer cutting a swath through the city's elite._

_Not for a few months, anyway._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**The Foundry**

**October 12th, 2012**

"You're not going to be able to keep ditching your security every time, Ollie." Laurel pointed out, wiping the back of her hand across her brow as she surveyed the results of work they'd put into their new base of operations, underneath his father's old Steel Mill. There was still more to do - a lot more - but they had the basic foundations up - a mannequin with her old League outfit, modified as it was to suit her new needs, complete with the blonde wig she planned on using as an additional mask on her identity , a place for Oliver to handcraft his arrows, several ways to train, so there was no risk of either of them losing their edge...

"No... but if I keep ditching him, maybe he'll quit, and after a few security guards quit, she'll stop hiring them," Oliver looked back at her over his shoulder as he retrieved his arrows from punctured tennis balls he'd pinned to the wall, five for five. "I can't really do this if I have a babysitter."

"Given everything I know about your mother, I don't think that's exactly likely," Laurel picked up her tonfas and gave them an experimental swirl. She'd had these carefully made to have a similar balance to the swords she'd used in the League, but... well, it was never going to exactly be the same, now was it? She would need to get more practice with them in before she was anywhere near as good as she'd been with her swords.

_But these have the advantage of being far less lethal._ Laurel had no illusions that she'd be able to be a vigilante and never kill someone - or never do so much damage they died of complications later - but she had every intention of keeping every criminal low-life alive as best she could.

_The killing had to stop._ The League had saved her life, given her purpose again when she'd been lost, hating herself for what she'd done to stay alive, thinking Oliver dead...

But the death... it had sapped at her soul, and she knew she'd never make up for what she'd done for the League.

She couldn't avoid it always - hadn't been able to avoid it yesterday - but... Laurel forced her thoughts back to the now as her boyfriend started walking towards her.

"Well, you obviously have an idea." Oliver took off his quiver and set it down on a table, looking over at her, arms folded across his chest. "Let's hear it."

"Making excuses for where you're going would be a lot easier if your bodyguard was able to help cover for you." Laurel put the tonfas down and gestured around the room. "We talked about this possibility - how saving Starling City would be easier with more than two people on the job."

"You want to recruit him?" Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I remember the conversation. Every person we bring in increases the danger, to them, and us. I thought we agreed we'd wait a while to even consider it. You think Diggle's a good fit?"

"We did," Laurel agreed, "But that was before we were forced to change the timetable and your mother decided to assign a babysitter to you." She smiled ever so slightly at the way his brow furrowed when she said 'babysitter'. "As for whether or not this Diggle would be a viable option - I don't know. But if not him, then one of the other bodyguards your mother is likely to hire after him... if you go through enough of them, in theory one of them will be recruitable."

"So," Laurel shrugged, "let's keep an eye on him."

"Alright," Oliver agreed, nodding. He looked over at her costume on the mannequin, "Going out tonight?"

Laurel nodded, "Cindy, that pilot's daughter. I think I've found her. And I don't think you'll need any help going after Adam Hunt. Not when no one in this city is expecting a visit from a vigilante."

"I'm going after Adam Hunt?" Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"Might as well - he's in the news, and on your father's list." She nodded over towards the array of computers, the central one playing a muted feed from one of the local news channels. The headline at the bottom of the screen: "Adam Hunt Trial Ends, Declared Innocent". Walking over to it, Laurel turned up the volume.

"-three week trial, in which multiple pieces of evidence were ruled inadmissible by Judge Grell, Adam Hunt has been declared innocent of embezzling nearly $40 million from his clients' savings accounts -" She turned back to Oliver as the news reporter continued talking.

"Seems like now would be a good time for him to face a little justice. Or at least the chance to avoid it."

"Hopefully he'll see reason quickly," Oliver said. "Adam Hunt it is." Oliver sat down in front of one of the other computers and pulled up information on the man. "Looks like his building is across the street from the convention center. I guess I know where Tommy is going to hold our welcome back party."

Laurel rolled her eyes. "Of course he wants to throw a welcome back party. And of course you have to keep up appearances."

Oliver nodded. "Even after we get someone to arrest me and try to make a case, some people are going to wonder, unless I give the city a reason to assume I couldn't possibly be the vigilante." Laurel still wasn't sure if that part of Oliver's plan was a good idea, but she could follow the logic.

_Would have worked better if dad was still determined to hate Oliver._ But it looked like her father really meant it when he said he'd 'happily eat crow' about Oliver. Which... well, boded well for the long-term future, in theory, but it did threaten their immediate plans, somewhat.

"And who would think an irresponsible playboy running a hip new nightclub is the guy shooting arrows into the 1%?" Laurel nodded. She'd always known at least some of Oliver's partying had been performative... now it would be... more so.

"There is one... change to the plan I think we should make, at least for the moment," Oliver started hesitantly. "I know the plan was for us to find our own place, make it easier to mask our comings and goings, but..." Oliver let out a deep breath. "Thea's doing drugs again, or still, Laurel. And with Mom assigning me a bodyguard... I think they still need me there, for longer than we planned, or thought."

"She probably didn't stop. I don't even want to imagine what she might have graduated to by now, if she's been acting out and coping with drugs all five years." Laurel said after a long moment's consideration.

"I don't think she started when she was twelve... I hope," Oliver said softly, but he understood what she was saying.

For a split second, Laurel doubted Oliver, wondering if he was masking an unwillingness to move in together by using Thea as an excuse. But he wasn't, and she knew it. Oliver had been afraid of commitment, afraid of what moving in together could mean, but not anymore. Not like that.

"If you think that's what's best for Thea, for your Mom, right now..." Laurel wasn't thrilled about the idea, but she understood. Being protective towards Thea was part of what made Oliver who he was. "It's a good thing your bedroom is larger than some people's apartments."

At the look of relief on Oliver's face, Laurel allowed herself a slight smile. "I still want us to have our own place, in the city, but I sleep better with you next to me than without." Laurel hadn't had a repeat last night of her first night on Sara's couch, thankfully... but she couldn't risk hurting her sister again, possibly worse, next time Sara tried to help her out of a nightmare.

_And I know she will, even knowing the risks._

"Only for a few months, I hope." Oliver said. He got up and grabbed the front of her tank top, pulling her against him. "I promise I'll make it up to you," he added in a low murmur, before pressing his lips against hers.

A few minutes later, the two of them found reason to be _very_ glad they'd had the foresight to lay down the training mats already.

**The Glades**

**October 12th, 2012**

Though she had a general idea of where to look to find Cindy, the Glades were still a big place, a maze of streets and alleys and dilapidated buildings in need of repair and maintenance. Desperate people who made up the underclass of Starling City - the poor, the homeless, the desperate criminals.

And less desperate criminals who flocked to that desperation like flies to a corpse.

But until she could pinpoint the girl, there was still work to be done.

"C'mon, you know what we want," the thug grabbed the woman's wrists, holding them together to stop her flailing. "All this fighting just makes it more fun." The thug's two friends' laughter echoed his words.

Laurel didn't wait for him to take things any further. Wordlessly, Laurel dropped down from the roof she'd been watching from, landing in amongst the three men.

"What the-" another started to say, but she was already on him, her tonfas sweeping his legs out from under him as she rose back to her feet.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be? Some sort of hero?" The first one demanded, ignoring the woman he'd been attacking, who was pressed against the alley wall, too scared to move. He pulled out a switchblade. "Three on one - I like those odds." The man she'd felled was already starting to struggle to his feet, and the second man pulled out a switchblade as well.

"Knives? You really should have brought guns," Laurel said coldly, dropping her voice a register. "Not that they'd have helped either." In a flurry of blows, Laurel attacked the first man, hitting first one side and then the other, then with another hit to his hand, his knife flew from his grip, skidding across the ground and landing several feet away. She ducked under a punch, rolled to the left and grabbed the man's arm, using his own momentum against him, all but throwing him into the one she'd knocked down who had finally clambered to his feet.

The last one, also armed with a switchblade, came at her, but she evaded his thrust with ease, sidestepping him and pinning his arm between her tonfa - and with one pressed in on the inside of his elbow, she pushed the other up, _hard_ , and watched his face contort in pain as his arm was broken. She shoved him to the side as he stumbled backwards - the other two were rising to their feet a few feet away, but not yet - Laurel looked over at the woman:

"Run." She didn't need to say it twice, apparently, and the girl darted off. Laurel leapt backwards, and the two still standing attackers rushed towards her, exactly as intended. Before they could reach her, however, Laurel dropped one tonfa and pulled a small metal object from her belt. The League generally didn't prefer modern technology for its kills, but they'd recovered various interesting toys here and there from their missions, and sometimes made use of them.

Including this one, and the specially designed plugs that stopped it from affecting her.

Pressing the button on the side of the sonic device and throwing it, Laurel watched as both men dropped to the ground, crying out in pain, trying to cover their ears. Even as the device was still screeching, Laurel retrieved her dropped tonfa, approached the two kneeling men. It was quick work, knocking them flat on their backs, then grabbing an arm from each in turn, twisting and _snap_.

"If I see _any_ of you trying to hurt someone again, your arm will be the least of your concerns," Laurel all but growled as the device shut off. Before the thugs could recover enough to say anything - all of them still whimpering and babbling in pain - she knocked them out one by one with a swift _whack_ to the back of the head.

**The Glades**

**October 12th, 2012**

Laurel looked at the picture again. It was her. Had to be. Years older now, yes, a homeless teenager just getting by to survive, missing from a group home. But it was her. Cindy.

As the girl turned down an alley, taking a no doubt well-used shortcut, Laurel dropped down in front of her. Cindy took a surprised step back, blinking.

"What the hell?" The girl tensed, clearly ready to run, but also confused enough to not do it just yet. Laurel held up empty hands.

"I'm not here to hurt you," She told the teenager. "Your name is Cindy."

"Hey look lady, nobody's called me that in a long time. I don't know what your game is, and yeah, I'm digging the whole look you've got-" Cindy started, putting up a show of false bravado.

"A little under four years ago, your father went missing, along with his plane." Laurel held up the picture he'd given her. She'd made him a promise, and she hadn't been able to keep it before now, but...

"How- what the hell?!" Cindy demanded, grabbing at the picture. Laurel let her take it.

"Your father's plane flew into the middle of something much bigger than him," Laurel explained softly. "He was shot down... I tried to help him... but I couldn't. His last words were about you. He asked me to find you... but I wasn't able to come here before now."

The girl looked at the photo, and Laurel could see a few tears forming in Cindy's eyes, but she blinked them away quickly.

"A little late, wouldn't you say?"

"I would," Laurel agreed. "And I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner to tell you. He loved you... if you ever doubted that, don't."

"Who - who are you?" Cindy staggered back a pace, then swallowed and looked Laurel in the eyes. "And - why the hell are you dressed like that? You think you're some kind of superhero?" The teen scoffed, throwing up obvious walls. Laurel wondered what exactly she'd been through the last four years, what it had been like.

_Hell, probably. Her own personal brand of it, anyway_.

"Not exactly. But I'm here to help this city. A few blocks east and you might still see some of my handiwork." Laurel inclined her head to the side a little. "So if I don't call you Cindy, what _do_ I call you?"

"Sin," the girl answered after a moment. Laurel nodded.

"I'll see you around, Sin," Laurel turned, leaping on top of a dumpster.

"Wait - so you're gonna drop something that heavy on me and just run off?" Laurel looked back at her.

"Like I said, I'll see you around." Before Laurel could jump/climb her way up to the roof - a different one than she'd been on minutes before - Sin asked another question.

"What - what do I call you, when I see you around again?"

Laurel smirked slightly. "Black Canary."

**Convention Center, Starling City**

**October 13th, 2012**

"He's still got almost an hour, Ollie," Laurel murmured. "I think we've managed to time it so we'll be _just_ fashionably late enough."

"Probably," Oliver agreed, putting his phone into his pocket. "I'll have to give Tommy this, I think he's gotten _better_ at throwing parties in the last five years."

"You'd be the connoisseur of parties of the two of us. I can barely hear myself think with this music going." Laurel rolled her eyes, and grabbed his hand, holding it as they approached the stairs down to the main floor. To Oliver's great lack of surprise, Tommy was already started, a drink in one hand and surrounded by a bevy of girls, but he turned around in time to see them coming. Gesturing for the DJ to cut the music, Tommy ran up towards them.

"Everybody! Hey!" He shouted over the crowd, which slowly dropped in volume to more manageable levels. Clapping Oliver on the back lightly, Tommy went on, "Man and woman of the hour!" That was greeted by cheers that Oliver suspected was as much inspired by the free drinks and the party itself as any specific appreciation for Laurel and him.

"Come on, ladies and gentlemen, let's give these two a proper welcome!" He stepped back and let Laurel and Oliver continue down the stairs as 'We are the Champions' began to play, the crowd parting so they could get to the raised platform in the center of the crowd. After squeezing Laurel's hand for a moment, he let it go and stepped onto the platform, accepting the shot glass Tommy was handing him.

"Thank you very much everybody!" Oliver shouted over the crowd. "A lot of people have been asking what I missed most while I was away, and well -" Oliver downed the drink in one go, "I missed tequila!" The crowd went wild, cheering as the music went back to yet another dance beat.

Oliver dropped down from the platform, pulling Tommy in for a quick hug. "Thanks for putting this together so quickly man."

"This, this was nothing. You should see what I can put together when I have time to throw a _real_ party," Tommy chuckled. He looked past Oliver to Laurel. "Ah, and there's the disapproving glares I missed so much," referencing an old joke dating back to when they were all still at Balloi Prep.

Laurel smiled a little, giving Tommy a hug herself. "I shudder to think what you've been getting up to without me to help keep you grounded, Tommy."

"There is that," Tommy agreed, "but I was also missing my major accomplice here, so I think it all balances out. Though, since I have you here, I need your assistance as my wingman." He turned around and gestured to three dancing young women in low-cut, but still relatively tasteful dresses. "Right now, I'm thinking Carmen Golden, but I don't know, what's your take?"

Oliver could practically hear Laurel rolling her eyes behind them, but she didn't say anything. "Which one is Carmen Golden?"

"The one that looks like the chick from Twilight." Which didn't help at all. Oliver looked over at his friend, -

"What's Twilight?"

Tommy started to answer, then, "You're so much better off not knowing, trust me."

"Tommy, if there's one thing you've always been good at, it's picking up women. I'm sure you'll do well with whichever one you pick," Oliver started to say something more, but then he saw a familiar profile out of the corner of his eye.

_No._

But after he turned his head slightly to see, sure enough, there she was, and then...

_She's meeting her dealer here._ Thea shouldn't even be at this party.

**Convention Center, Starling City**

**October 13th, 2012**

Laurel checked her phone. 10:19. Oliver was just starting to cut - or shoot, in this case - a swath through Adam Hunt's men. He'd promised he'd do his best to leave them alive, but Laurel knew at least one of them was likely to end up dead. Once a fight started, bullets and arrows flying...

"Where'd Oliver go?" Laurel looked up at Tommy.

"He needed some air," Laurel said, more or less honestly. "This many people in so small a space... we're not exactly used to it. But I think Ollie's having a harder time with it, at least tonight." She saw Tommy's face fall, and Laurel shook her head. "No, Tommy, don't - this is a great party, and he wasn't lying when he thanked you for throwing it. It was just... a little more overwhelming than he expected."

"You too, or you wouldn't be standing up here, away from the party," Tommy pointed out. Laurel had to nod at that.

"Well, I was never into partying as much as you two were," she pointed out. "But yeah, I'm finding it a bit overwhelming too."

"I asked Ollie about the Island, what you two went through... he didn't want to talk about it. Am I going to find out anymore from you?"

_I was only there for about a year, give or take, all told. Oliver spent more than three years total on that hell._ The last few months between killing Kovar and their rescue had actually almost been relaxing, in a way. Certainly less violent. But nothing would ever make Lian Yu _not_ an awful place for the both of them.

"Not right now. Sorry, Tommy. Suffice to say, it wasn't pleasant. But what about you - what have you been doing the last five years?"

"Oh, you know me. Spending Dad's money. Got grabbed by the cops for more of of the same a few times. I think I'd never see my father if he didn't show up to bail me out and make the problem go away." As always when the topic of Malcolm Merlyn came up, bitterness rose to the fore of Tommy's voice.

"No change there then," Laurel said softly. "So just that?"

"More or less. The first year after... after I thought you died weren't... well, I got a little more intense on the parties than even I like," he shook his head. "You know, I didn't mean to drop a depressing mood over the atmosphere. Sorry."

"You're allowed to talk about things not going perfectly for you, Tommy," Laurel countered. When they'd seen Tommy again at the dinner at Queen Manor, she and Oliver had just assumed he'd managed to make it through those five years about as well as one could expect. Tommy had always been resilient - he'd had to, after his mother died.

_But he's just as good at hiding how he's feeling as Oliver is, and you both knew that._

"Friendship is a two way street. You might not have been stuck on a desert island like Oliver and I were, but... you lost your best friend-"

"Both of my best friends," Tommy corrected. "Oliver might have been my wingman, but I like to think we're just as close -" Before he could say more, the sound of the music thrumming in the background suddenly cut off. Tommy turned, looking over the ledge. "What the hell?" Laurel joined him, and saw several SWAT team members moving into the crowd, though at least they had their weapons lowered.

"Is that your dad?" Tommy pointed. Laurel followed his gaze and feigned surprise.

"It's him. What is he doing-" Laurel hurried down the stairs, hoping Ollie got back into the party before her dad noticed he was missing. This had been planned, but still, every plan faced the reality of execution.

"Starling City Police, the party's over kids!" Her father shouted, his words greeted by boos.

"Detective," Tommy said moving towards him. "What is this?" He gestured to the myriad of police officers around the room.

"Oh, Mr. Merlyn. Imagine my surprise at seeing you here. Roofie anyone special tonight?"

_What the hell dad_?

"Dad!" Laurel said, moving to stand next to Tommy. "What are you doing?"

"Laurel- I..." Her father hesitated.

"I know you don't really like my boyfriend or Tommy, but are you seriously just breaking up this party and accusing Tommy of date rape just because-"

"Laurel, that has nothing to do with why I'm here. Look, the-"

"Detective!" Oliver said over the sound of the crowd, brushing past several people to stand on the other side of Tommy. "This is a private party. You're Laurel's dad, you're more than welcome, but I don't remember inviting all of your friends."

"There was an incident at Adam Hunt's building, and we need to search the premises," her father said, his tone suddenly less harsh, though Laurel could pick up on a hint of annoyed hostility. _I guess he really_ _ **is**_ _trying..._

"Adam Hunt?" Oliver's expression didn't flicker at all.

"Millionaire bottom-feeder. His building is just across the street, and that guy in a hood that rescued you three the other day dropped down onto the roof of this building after paying Hunt a visit."

"The Hood guy? You haven't found him, have you?" Oliver smiled, "I'm gonna offer a reward." He turned around and held up two fingers. "Hey, everyone! Two million dollars to anybody who can find a nut bar in the green hood!" The crowd cheered wildly and Oliver turned back to her father.

Under other circumstances, Laurel would have been annoyed or upset with Oliver antagonizing her father like that, but after he'd accused Tommy of date-rape, she didn't mind. _Dad, I love you, but you can really be a complete ass sometimes._

"You can look around, but this _is_ a private party, and it hasn't broken any laws, so you can't just shut it down," Laurel told her father. "Unless the law was changed pretty radically in the last five years, anyway."

Her father started to say something, but his partner interrupted. "We'll check the rest of the building, since it looks like he's not in this room." Not entirely gently he pushed her father away from the three of them.

Once he was away, Tommy looked over at her. "Your dad can be a real piece of work, can't he?" Out of the corner of her eye, Laurel watched Oliver approach the podium and shout for the music to start again.

"Unfortunately," Laurel agreed as the DJ got back to work. "Look, Tommy, I'm sorry he-"

Tommy shook his head. "I'm used to your dad being an ass, Laurel. You don't need to apologize for him." When Oliver reached them again, Tommy changed topic. "It is a hell of a coincidence though," Tommy pointed out. "I mean, one of the two people who rescued us from those kidnappers attacks Adam Hunt the same night you have a party here?"

Laurel looked at him carefully. Did Tommy suspect? And did he have any reason to? _Did he wake up a little in that warehouse?_ It was a chilling thought, but if Tommy knew for sure, he'd say something, right?

Oliver shrugged, "It's a pretty obvious place to have a party," he pointed out.

"I think we should just be thankful he didn't go after anyone here." She met Oliver's gaze for a second, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

_Adam Hunt is dealt with. One down... a whole book's worth to go._


	4. Heart To Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow, obviously.
> 
>  **Note:** Narratively speaking, Sara does fill some of the roles that Laurel did in canon, but it's not exactly a one for one relationship.
> 
> As a general rule, I tend to operate under the assumption an Episode starts on its air date, unless it's clear it isn't - if there's a two-parter, or the episode picks up right after something happened last episode, et cetera. And I move the date forward as it does in an episode.
> 
> If Oliver seems a little too expressive and open here - keep in mind, he's in a different place, mentally and emotionally, than he was in canon, because of the different experiences, thanks to Laurel. He's not carrying around the guilt of having been responsible for Sara's death (or Laurel's, for that matter, once they met again in Russia and realized the other was alive) and being with Laurel in Russia and the Island for six months before coming back to Starling City has improved things in some ways for him too.
> 
> I'm not sure I'd say he's 'better', per se, but he is in a different emotional place. I'm doing my best to triangulate all this so he still feels in character, but changed for the different context and circumstances. If you feel like I'm not quite hitting the mark, please (politely) let me know what you think I'm doing wrong and while I can't promise I'll always agree with your thoughts, I won't just ignore and dismiss them.
> 
> Thanks to WillOzSummers for beta-reading.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 4: Heart To Heart

_Was Star City really more criminal than other cities? Is that why vigilantes first rose there?_

_Of course not. It had a strong criminal element, many corrupt elite, but overall, it wasn't much worse. Not until Malcolm Merlyn, for reasons still debated by history, conceived of his 'Undertaking', anyway. Until_ **_after_ ** _the completion of the Undertaking. Until the rise of Superheroes did, for a time, cause escalation._

_And of course, the Arrow and the Black Canary were not the first vigilantes - not even the first in Starling City. Just the first truly high-profile ones. Common convention may date the beginning of the Age of Superheroes with the return of Laurel Lance and Oliver Queen to Starling City, as does this very book, but between groups like the Justice Society of America and various others... well, conventional dating is as arbitrary as saying when the Roman Empire was officially founded, or when it ended, when various historical Golden Ages truly began and ended..._

_History, like so many things, is the art of making assumptions, drawing conclusions on limited and often insufficient evidence and then building them into compelling narratives told confidently._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**Starling City Courthouse**

**October 17th, 2012**

"Now, onto the offices," his mother began as they walked out of the courtroom and down stairs into the main lobby. "Everyone is waiting to meet you there."

Oliver bit back the immediate 'no' that rose to his throat. When he'd suggested dropping by the office last week... he hadn't expected his mother would be so enamoured of the idea, and he hadn't expected she'd actually expect him to take a position at the company.

She hadn't said as much, not yet, but he'd picked up on her implication over the course of the week, as she talked around the topic.

 _I can't do what I need to do... what this city needs behind a desk completely failing at whatever job they assign me._ He wasn't his father, he wasn't a businessman, and none of the skills he had - before or after the sinking of the Queen's Gambit - were exactly translatable to the world of business.

"Mom," Oliver said, his thoughts taking barely a second to process, "that was... a little bit heavier than I was expecting." Which wasn't actually lie. Apart from saying they'd both arrived on Lian Yu, together, at the same time, nothing Laurel or he had said had been a lie... just... simplified.

But reliving that moment - Laurel, presumed dead... floating in the liferaft with his father's dead body... arriving on the Island...

"Can we do that tomorrow, please?"

"Of course," his mother replied, sympathetically.

"Thank you." Oliver saw a confused look on Tommy's face, and not for the first time, wondered just what Tommy suspected... he hadn't said anything, and Oliver was _certain_ Tommy hadn't been properly conscious to see Laurel and him kill those kidnappers...

But it did seem like Tommy suspected... _something_. Or maybe he was just suspicious, even if he wasn't aware of why...

 _Or,_ a little voice in the back of Oliver's head that sounded suspiciously like Laurel said, _you're just paranoid and hyper-aware and looking for threats that don't exist._

Which...

Well, Oliver couldn't exactly say she was wrong.

"Last week, you couldn't _wait_ to get to the company," Tommy said after a long moment.

"And I had just gotten back from five years away from civilization. I wasn't exactly thinking straight," Oliver pointed out.

"Cut him some slack, Tommy," Sara said, walking up beside them along with Laurel. "I mean, you haven't exactly been interested in working for Merlyn Global."

"Ah, but I've never expressed even a little interest in taking my 'rightful place' at the company," Tommy pointed out, complete with air quotes. "Dad and I have a pretty good system going - I ignore him when I don't need him to smooth things out when I have too much fun, he ignores me when he's not scolding me about being irresponsible... it works."

Sara rolled her eyes, "You've said as much. Repeatedly." She looked over at her sister. "How did you ever put up with these two?" She gestured to Tommy and Oliver.

"Hey!" Oliver protested, right alongside Tommy, but Laurel just smiled.

"I'm not entirely sure, but they have their moments," Laurel teased. Sara looked like she was about to say something more when her phone rang. She took it out of her pocket and looked at the incoming number.

"Hold on, I have to take this. Work." She brought the phone to her ear, "Emily," Sara gestured for them to go on ahead, and the three of them did so - as they reached the lobby of the Courthouse, Sara started catching up with them, and Oliver caught the tail end of her call, unintentionally.

"-Somers will pay," Sara said to whoever was on the other end of the line. "I promise." She hung up, "Anyway," Sara said, looking at Laurel and Oliver. "How does it feel to be legally alive again?"

Laurel shrugged, "About the same, all things said and done." She looked over at Oliver, then the doors out onto the steps. "Ready for the jackals and vultures again?"

"Define 'ready'?" Oliver asked, but opened the door.

**The Foundry**

**October 17th, 2012**

Laurel picked up the pace as she moved from pole to pole, 'attacking' each with her tonfas in turn, running through the paces of the basic forms. Her tonfas might have been weighted the same as her swords, it was still a different experience, and she was still getting used to her enemies _not_ having their skin sliced open when she hit them.

It was rote forms, not dynamic combat, but that's all the fighting was, really - you learned the forms, you applied them and you trained them hard. And she couldn't let up the training - neither of them could. Once you stopped training, stopped preparing...

Well, that's when you were dead. It was a lesson they'd both learned the hard way. Her from the League, and him from his experiences on Lian Yu, in Hong Kong, and in Russia.

It was almost soothing in it's simplicity, as she stepped up the pace again, moving faster and faster, running through the motions again and again and again-

"You've been at that for over half an hour, Laurel," Oliver's voice cut in, breaking her reviere. "Time to change it up."

Laurel dropped one tonfa and caught the bottle of water he tossed her, unscrewing the cap and taking a small drink, then shook her head. "This is where I need to keep my focus. One of the idiots I went up against last night actually managed to draw his gun and fire before I could get it out of his hands. He missed, but still."

She looked over at Oliver, who was loading arrows into a quiver and loading the tennis ball launcher. "Besides, look who's talking."

"I do change up what I'm doing," Oliver countered. "Besides, I spent the last half hour researching the name I'm going after tonight. Martin Somers."

Laurel blinked for a moment, then she remembered where she'd heard the name. "Dad and Sara were complaining about him the other day - said the DA wasn't doing his job prosecuting him for having one of his stevedores murdered - because he's working with the Triad."

Oliver nodded, "Victor Nocenti. Survived by a daughter - Emily Nocenti. And unless I miss my guess, that's who your sister was talking to on the phone at the Courthouse." After a moment's thought, Laurel realized Oliver was probably right - Sara had greeted the call with 'Emily' and Laurel did recall catching the name Somers at the end of it. "I think she's still investigating him, probably looking for some sort of proof the DA can't dismiss."

"Well, it certainly sounds like Sara to try to find a system outside the system like that." Laurel agreed. It was hard for Laurel to entirely reconcile the reckless, irresponsible - though fundamentally good-hearted - girl she'd known growing up, especially once Sara hit her teenage years, and the Detective Sara Lance her sister had become.

Not entirely - Sara was still there, in a way that Laurel almost envied. Sometimes Laurel looked in the mirror and saw a stranger, though less and less since she'd found Ollie again.

But this Sara was... so inside the system. Following the rules. It was almost comforting to hear that her sister might be doing something a little less... inside the box.

It would be comforting, that is, if Martin Somers wasn't a murderer in cahoots with the Triad.

"It's too reckless for Sara to do something like that. Against a man like Somers?" Laurel shook her head. "She needs to stop." She was happy that Sara enjoyed being a cop, enjoyed helping people by solving crimes and arresting killers and other criminals...

But it was too dangerous for Sara to do it. Especially off the books.

Except...

Laurel didn't want to stifle her sister. And it wouldn't work to just try and force her to stop.

As if reading her thoughts, Oliver asked the obvious rhetorical question: "Has telling your sister to stop doing anything _ever_ worked?" He spoke as he activated the tennis-ball shooter and then got another five for five perfect shots in a matter of seconds. "That's why I'm going after Somers now. He'll face justice - confession or an arrow. One or the other."

"If he doesn't confess after your visit, I'm coming with you for the take-down," Laurel said with finality.

"You're ready for the city at large to know that the 'Hooded Vigilante' and the 'Black Canary' are working together?" Oliver retrieved his arrows. "I thought you wanted to keep that under wraps for longer."

"If there's even a chance this bastard could go after Sara to get her to leave him alone, I don't care," Laurel shook her head. So far, she'd managed to stay under the radar of city-wide news. The thugs she'd beaten up weren't talking to reporters, and no one she'd hit was high profile enough to draw attention. And the people of the Glades she'd helped were spreading word inside the community, but not out of it. The only knowledge the police had of her masked identity was what she and Oliver had given the sketch artist after the kidnapping.

"Most of them are calling me 'the Banshee', from what I'm hearing," Laurel told him. "We'll have to fix that before it starts to stick. And you're fine with just 'The Hooded Vigilante', 'The Hood Guy'?" The Banshee just didn't have the right connotations - and she'd picked Black Canary for a reason.

"I'm not in this to be a symbol the way you are, Laurel. I don't need name recognition."

"Starling City needs more than just a grim reaper mowing down the corrupt," Laurel said. "You can't just punish the evildoers and expect that to raise everyone else up."

"That's why you're doing what you're doing," Oliver said, shaking his head. "I can't be that symbol for the people of this city - you... you served two and a half years in the League of Shadows and you're still ten times the good person I could ever be."

 _Bullshit._ "Ollie... we've talked about this," she dropped the other tonfa, set the bottle of water aside and approached her boyfriend, putting her hand on his shoulder. "If you weren't a good man, I'd have never fallen in love with you in the first place. Five years of hell doesn't change that."

She might sometimes not recognize herself in the mirror.

Oliver, on the other hand?

She wasn't sure he _ever_ recognized himself in the mirror anymore.

**Living Room, Queen Manor**

**October 18th, 2017**

"Now where do you think my son is going on these chaperone-less excursions?" his mother asked Diggle.

"Ma'am," Diggle responded, "I truly do not know." Which was true, but it seemed a bit incomplete. Oliver hadn't just _avoided_ his bodyguard. He'd knocked the man out last week at the convention center... and the veteran had said nothing of it to his mother. It did make Oliver wonder if Laurel might be right. Though he didn't think Diggle suspected he was 'The Hood'

Deciding this was the best time to walk into the room and cut off his mother's line of questioning, Oliver spoke up as he entered: "And he truly doesn't."

His mother turned back to him, hands spread a little, "Then perhaps you'd like to share with me where it is you - and Laurel with you, usually - run off to?"

"Nowhere," Oliver shrugged, "Everywhere. Mom, we were alone on that island for five years - just the two of us. We're still... we're still getting used to other people being around. Sometimes... we just need a little time to ourselves."

His mother took a step towards him. "Oliver, I... I can't pretend to know what happened there," his mother, master of the implication as she was, didn't need to say 'because you won't tell me' for him to get that quite clearly, "but there have to be better ways for you two to handle things than just gallivanting off all over the city alone. It's not safe - you've already been kidnapped once, and there's a maniac out there, _hunting_ the wealthy!"

"That maniac saved my life," Oliver pointed out.

"This isn't a game!" His mother raised her voice a little, looking at him intently, "I lost you once - and I am _not_ going through that again!" Oliver closed his eyes a moment, feeling a little guilty at the tiny note of fear and desperation in his mother's voice that she was masking under layers of sternness.

But he still needed to do what had to be done.

 _I really hope Diggle can be convinced to help._ He wasn't sure yet... but well, it would make things a lot easier. His mother was far more dead set on this bodyguard thing than he'd thought she'd be.

"Okay," he said finally, then looked over at the man, "Dig's my guy." The other man had a look of complete skepticism as he met Oliver's eyes.

"Thank you," his mother said softly, before leaving the room. Oliver shrugged apologetically:

"Sorry to give you so much grief."

Diggle shook his head, buttoning his suit jacket back together. "I served three tours in Afghanistan, Mr. Queen. You don't even come _close_ to my definition of grief." As he spoke, he walked around the room to stand next to Oliver. "But I'll tell you what - you ditch me one more time, no one will have to fire me." Oliver nodded slowly, and Diggle too walked out of the room.

Before Oliver could really stop to consider what to do with that, Thea entered the room, clearly dressed for a night out with friends. Partying.

  
"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere loud... and smoky," Thea answered, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "And don't bother trying to pickpocket my stash this time - 'cause I'm gonna go get drunk instead." The sarcasm in his sister's words was biting and bitter.

"Thea..." Oliver said softly, knowing how hypocritical he had to look, wagging his finger at his sister like this. "Do you think this is what Dad would want for you?" It was a low blow, using Dad, but...

He'd tried to get through to Thea, and it wasn't working.

"Dead people don't want anything," Thea replied, her voice a little cold. "It's one of the benefits of being dead."

"I was dead, Thea," Oliver countered, his voice even softer. "And I wanted a lot."

"Except for your family," Thea said, still cold, "You've been home for a week, and when you're not with Laurel - even usually when you are - you've done nothing but avoid Mom, ignore Walter and judge me - for the exact same things you used to do." Thea turned away, walking for the door. "Don't wait up."

"She's not wrong," Laurel said as the door closed behind Thea. "About any of it."

Oliver let out a breath, "You haven't exactly been all that open with Sara or your dad either." There were no recriminations or sarcasm in his words - it was just the truth. As was what she'd just told him.

Laurel sighed next to him. "It's harder than we thought it would be, isn't it?" She rested her head on his shoulder, linking her arm with his. "Coming home, I mean."

_It is._

**Starling City Police Department**

**October 18th, 2012**

Sara wondered - as she often did - if there was some unwritten rule that cops were expected to have terrible coffee at the station. Always. It wasn't like she could afford any of the even moderately fancy stuff, but the coffee she made at home didn't taste like she expected battery acid did.

This stuff, on the other hand...

_You're still drinking it._

"Sara," at the sound of her dad's voice, Sara turned around. "Do you have a moment?"

"Yeah," she nodded, moving so she wasn't blocking the coffee machine. "What's up? I heard you were following up another lead on this hooded vigilante?" Her father seemed really determined to bring him to justice. Sara wasn't so sure... the guy had killed a few people, and put dozens more in the hospital...

And yet... he was getting results. Just yesterday, Marcus Redmond had returned all the money he'd 'borrowed' from the pension plan he'd overseen, reportedly after a visit from the Hood. And he and his friend, the woman in black, had saved her sister, Tommy and Oliver from those kidnappers. And of course, there'd been Adam Hunt.

But...

He was a murderer. And he was acting completely outside the law. And there _was_ a reason vigilante justice was illegal. She did get that. But still...

_Well, no one ever said I was as much of a cop's cop as my father._

"I was. Turns out he paid a visit to Martin Somers last night. Not that the scumbag admits it, of course." Sara could see the build up to a fatherly lecture. He must have found out what she'd been doing the last few weeks on her off hours, when she had them. "He said something interesting - that I wasn't the only Detective Lance that had been around the port lately." He looked at her pointedly. "Something you want to tell me?"

Sara shrugged, "You just said it. I've been around the port recently - doing my job." She sipped at her coffee and winced at the taste, screwing up her face in disgust. This pot was even worse than usual.

"Your job is not to go around harassing powerful and dangerous people, Sara!"

"I haven't been harassing him, dad, and yes, that's _exactly_ my job! I don't care how powerful he is - he had Victor Nocenti killed, and I'm going to find proof, something that even the DA can't ignore, no matter how much he wants to." Sara set her coffee down and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I haven't violated any rules or laws on searching or harassing the man, but my _job_ is to help put criminals behind bars, and that's exactly what I'm doing!"

"What you're doing, Sara, is running an off the books investigation that _will_ get you in trouble while you're pissing off someone who has no problem with having people killed! And you're next on his list!"

"Dad, I'm a police detective, and before that I was a police officer - I arrest dangerous people for a living! I have a gun, and I have been in a firefight before!" Sara shook her head, "And it's only off the books because the DA's office shut down the investigation into Somers before it could even start! I promise Emily Nocenti that I'd bring her father's killer to justice, and I plan to keep that promise."

"I thought I lost your sister, Sara. For five years, I thought she was dead. I can't go through that again with you, especially when it'll be for good!" Sara could remember how her dad had run to his work, crawled into the bottle, after the _Queen's Gambit_ went down, after mom left...

"But Laurel's not dead, Dad, and that argument didn't work on me when I first joined the force, so it's definitely not gonna work now!" Sara shook her head again, feeling a little angry at her father's low blow. "I'm not going to just drop this investigation - I have a duty as an officer of the law to see it enforced on everyone, no matter how connected they are, and I'm doing everything in my legal power possible to see that through." She picked up her coffee mug again. "Where do you think I got that from?"

**Backyard, Queen Manor**

**October 18th, 2012**

It was a little morbid, looking at his own gravestone.

He'd been dead, for five years. It made sense that he'd have one, even without a body. But like a lot of things... he hadn't even considered that. He listened as Thea explained how she'd used to come out to his gravestone, sometimes daily, and talk to it, as if talking to him, about her day, whatever she was going through or dealing with. How she'd beg him to come home, someday, somehow.

"Now here you are," Thea said, her voice thick with emotion, dampness in her eyes, "and the truth is... I felt closer to you when you were dead." Thea paused only long enough for a short breath. "Look... I know, it was hell where you were. But it was hell for me here too. You at least had Laurel... for a while there, I didn't even really have mom."

_But I didn't have Laurel..._

Not that Thea knew, or could know that. And he could understand what she was saying, what point she was trying to make.

"You gotta let me in, Ollie. _Please_." She took a step closer to him. "Because right now, it feels like my brother is still gone, and I _hate_ that feeling."

Oliver pulled his sister into for hug, "Thea... I'm sorry." After a moment, she returned it. When it was done, he pulled back. "You're right. I do... I do need to do better, to open up." There was so much he couldn't tell her, even if he could manage to be really open. So much about the last five years, about what he was doing now... he couldn't tell her, couldn't talk about with anyone but Laurel.

But even if he had to lie about the details...

Yes, he had to save this city, fulfill his father's last request... but not at the expense of just completely leaving his family behind. Coming home was so much harder than he'd expected it to be - Diggle was right about one thing. Home was a battlefield, and it wasn't like the battles he'd had to fight in the last five years.

"We didn't always... talk, on the island." Oliver said, his voice quiet. "There was a lot we did talk about, for a while, at first. Not just basic things, like 'I found water', but... everything. But after a while... it hurt. Every time we talked about anything deeper than just... survival, it brought back things we couldn't think about. Not if we wanted to be focused on seeing the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that."

"We couldn't think about..." Oliver trailed off, trying to work through what felt like a blockage in his throat. "Everyone back home. Family... friends... even the simple things, like... fast food and stupid commercials and annoying music on the car radio. I didn't think about what it was like for you, back home, because if I did that, I'd miss you too much, miss everything and everyone here back home... and and then I wouldn't be able to do what I had to do to survive."

"We'd go whole days without talking to each other at all, sometimes, because it just hurt too much." He took in a breath. "I need to get better, at talking, at... everything I had to leave behind while on that island. It's going to take some time, but I promise I'll try to do better, if you'll give me that time?"

Thea, who was tearing up again, just a little, nodded, this time being the one to initiate the hug. Oliver returned it.

"Yeah, Ollie, I can. Just... just don't take too long." She looked up at him a little, a sudden smirk forming on her face. "Hugging people that aren't your girlfriend is one of those things you really need to practice too."

**Sara Lance's Apartment**

**October 18th, 2012**

She had played it cool with her dad earlier, unconcerned about the notion of Somers sending people to kill her, but she wasn't quite as blase about direct threats to her life as she'd pretended.

Since she'd come home an hour ago, she'd kept her gun to hand, and when she heard the knocking at her door... well, she wouldn't admit it to her father, but her first thought was assassin.

Which is how she'd ended up greeting her sister at the door with a gun in one hand, though not actually pointed at her.

"Sorry." Sara said, switching the safety back on and stepping aside so Laurel could come in. She was carrying a bag of food in one hand and a drink-holder with a pair of milkshakes But it wasn't just any food.

"You didn't."

Laurel held up the bag, showing the logo clearly. "Patty Shack, on 5th and Brewer. You always insist they're the best burgers in town."

Sara snatched the bag from her sister's hand with a smile, "Because they _are_. But I distinctly remember you thinking Big Belly Burger is better. Somehow I don't think that changed because you were stranded on an island." She opened the bag and pulled out a burger.

"Consider it a peace offering. Dad called and asked me to come over and talk some sense into you. I'm not sure why he thinks I'll have better luck." Laurel walked past Sara and set the drink holder on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"I'm not going to stop looking for evidence I can use to nail Martin Somers to the wall," Sara said. "Bribe of a burger, even a great burger, isn't going to do it." She pulled out a thing of fries, then handed the bag back to Laurel, sitting back down on the couch, her service pistol resting on the coffee table again.

"I do remember how stubborn you can be," Laurel shrugged, unwrapping her burger. "But you really shouldn't be doing this. I spent five years wanting to see you again. You're taking a big risk going after this Somers guy... I just don't want to have to worry about..." she trailed off.

"At the end of the day, it's not really that much risk more than I do being a cop in general," Sara shook her head. "Switch our positions for a second - pretend you got to go to Law School and you joined the DA's office like you were always hoping to, and _you're_ the one who isn't dropping the investigation into Somers. Would you let Dad try to scare you off the case?"

Laurel bit her lip for a long moment, saying nothing, before she finally sighed and took a bite of her burger. After she swallowed, she shrugged. "No, I wouldn't. I just... " she sighed again. "Well, I can tell dad I tried."

"You really didn't think it would work, did you?" Sara couldn't help but laugh a little - and then her sister had to ruin the moment by dipping one of her fries in her milkshake. "Really, you _still_ do that?"

"It's delicious," Laurel protested. "And this is the first time I've had fries or a milkshake since I got back, so let me enjoy this." She popped the monstrosity against fast food into her mouth.

Sara laughed, "Fine, fine. I take it burger and fries aren't really a thing at the Queen Family Dinner table?"

"I think Moira Queen might die of shock and indignation if a burger or fries was put on her plate," Laurel said, dipping another fry. "She has very firm ideas about the way the world should be."

"Amusing as it is to think of your future mother in law - oh, don't give me that look, you and Oliver are going to get married sooner or later, duh - having a conniption fit over junky fast food, if we're not going to talk about how I'm not ending my investigation into Somers, I'd rather talk about you."

Laurel sat up a little straighter, stiffening a little - almost imperceptibly really, but Sara knew her sister too well to not pick up on it. "Look... I'm not expecting you to just... spill everything, right now. Tell me everything that happened on that island." _I'm not even asking you to explain your scars, no matter how much I want to know... need to know who hurt my sister like that._ "I just... want to talk to you about... you. It doesn't have to be about the island... just... anything. I mean, are you planning on going to law school?" Future plans was a safe topic, right?

The answer had to be yes. Being a lawyer had been Laurel's dream for... well practically ever. Certainly as far back as Sara could remember, anyway.

"I don't know," Laurel admitted after a long moment. "Even assuming the stars aligned perfectly for me, it would be at least three years from now that I could graduate from law school and take the bar exam. I wanted - want - to be a lawyer to help people, but I don't want to wait another three years until I can actually do that. Spend three years studying and taking classes and... being too busy to do anything to actually help people in the meantime. I waited five years... I don't want to wait more."

Sara hadn't thought about it like that... but she could understand her sister's concern. But she didn't feel like it was enough for Laurel to just abandon her dream.

"Even if there's no way you can manage to get it done sooner, it's three years. Laurel, you've wanted to be a lawyer basically forever. Are you really going to abandon that dream?"

"It's not that sim-" Laurel cut herself off, and after a second, Sara realized why. There was...

"Someone on the fire escape," Laurel gave voice to her thoughts. Sara grabbed her gun and flicked off the safety, about to head for the window when her front door broke apart into pieces by a man armed with a gun that was at least three different kinds of illegal. Laurel grabbed her empty hand and pulled her down as the window was smashed open and a second attacker came through firing as well.

The Triad. Somers had sent the Triad to kill her. _Fucking awesome._ Rolling away from the couch, Sara didn't exactly climb to her feet as she pulled Laurel into the kitchen with her, giving them at least a wall's cover against the bullets.

More bullets rained around them, but by some miracle neither of them were hurt. Sara glimpsed around the doorframe and fired off three shots in quick succession at one of her attackers - shots that went right into his chest - he might live, at least for a few more minutes, but it was enough to take him down for the count. But now there was a third attacker, and Sara's throat seized up a little in fear as she realized the woman with long white hair and a knife in each hand was China White.

Sara had never seen the woman in person, but her appearance _was_ distinctive, and she was said to be the Triad's top enforcer in Starling City, the second in command of the entire local branch, really. And people didn't exactly walk away from encounters with her.

 _I'll just have to be the first._ She couldn't do anything else, not with Laurel here with her. And she had to prove her dad wrong, damnit!

Another set of shots and the second gunman was taken down, screaming and clutching at his leg just before he could enter the kitchen, but then China White was on her -

Or would have been, if Laurel didn't leap at the would-be assassin first, one of Sara's kitchen knives in each hand.

"Laurel, no!" But her sister didn't stop, and... and somehow, even though she was using kitchen knives and fighting a _trained killer_ her sister was actually holding her own and-

It was almost like watching a deadly dance, as Laurel was able to drive her elbow into the inside of China's left arm, sending one of her knives flying into the wall, and - dropping her own knives to the ground, grabbing the other woman's arm and trying to use t as leverage to flip her back and around, over onto her back -

Despite her attempt though, Laurel didn't quite manage it, and now she was blocking - effectively - China's efforts to attack her with just the one knife. Sara tried to get a shot in - while trying to figure how in the hell her sister was able to fight off her attacker. _The self-defense training dad had us take doesn't cover_ ** _this!_**

But with the two women moving so quickly, there was no way she could get her shot in without risking hitting Laurel -

It was the sound of police sirens coming that finally ended things - China pulled away from the fight, darting out of the door before Laurel could stop her.

"Laurel!" Sara dropped her gun and went over to her sister, hugging her in relief when she saw she wasn't bleeding. "Are you-"

"I'm fine," Laurel said, a little stiffly. "Are you - did they hit you?" Laurel pulled back from the hug, her hands on Sara's shoulders and looked her over.

"They didn't get me. I'm alright. Laurel, how did you- what-" a million questions bubbled up, but she couldn't ask them all. Her mind still racing, she forced herself to take a breath. "Laurel, what the hell did you think you were doing!?"

"Stopping that woman from killing you!" Laurel shot back, gesturing angrily. She winced and grabbed onto her left wrist with her right hand.

"You said you weren't hurt!"

"I said I was fine, and I am. It's nothing a little ice won't handle."

Sara shook her head, wondering how Laurel could be so blasé. "You can't just jump in - you could have been hurt! How - how were you even - how did you manage to-" Before she could finish her question, however it came out, the attacker she'd shot in the leg had pulled himself to his feet and was trying - badly - to limp/run away. Sara moved past her sister and knocked the man to the ground, pinning his arms behind him as she turned him over, ignoring his screams of pain as she pinned his injured leg with one of her own. She wasn't intentionally being brutal, but she was going to make sure this guy stayed down.

"My cuffs, by the door!" Sara gestured with her head, and her sister retrieved them and brought them back over to her. Sara took the cuffs and snapped them around the man's wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court." It was almost a matter of habit that had her reciting the Miranda warning as she cuffed the man. Only once his hands were securely bound did she pull back.

Sara was about to ask her sister to grab the first-aid kit under the sink when two police officers came into her apartment, weapons drawn. They relaxed only a little when they recognized her and saw there were no active attackers. "Detective Lance - what happened?!"

Sara pulled the man up to his knees as she stood. "I'm fine. Three attackers. This man, that one," she gestured to the one she'd shot in the chest, who looked like he was dead or close enough. Despite the seriousness of what had just happened, Sara dreaded the paperwork she'd have to do for this, even in a case of very clear-cut self-defense.

"Got it." One of the officers grabbed his radio, calling it in and requesting an ambulance. The other checked the pulse of second attacker, then confirmed aloud he was dead, before taking the cuffed man from her. Laurel handed the officer Sara's first aid kit, which he used to at least stem the flow of the man's bleeding until the ambulance could get there.

"I texted Dad. If he wasn't already on his way, he is now," Laurel said softly. "Ollie is too."

**Sara Lance's Apartment**

**October 18th, 2012**

By the time their father arrived, the ambulance had come and the dead man was being taken away in a body bag. He'd come from the other side of the city as fast he could.

"Dad!" Sara hugged him tightly, and Laurel hung back, not really quite ready for a hug, though she knew he'd go in for one.

Between the cops arriving and having to give a formal statement and now their dad here, Sara hadn't been able to ask her again, how she'd been able to fight off the white-haired woman who had attacked her. And Laurel had no idea how she was going to be able to give a good answer. Luck wasn't exactly a good explanation...

She could only hope once the shock of it all wore off, Sara was just glad they made it through mostly unscathed. Laurel held the ice pack to her wrist as her father pulled away from hugging her sister.

"You're both alright?" Even though he knew the answer, he had to ask.

"We're fine... mostly," Laurel held up her wrist.

"Did they take your service weapon?" Their father asked, and Sara nodded. "Good. You have a backup? I don't want you going unarmed until we can get that bastard to flip on Somers."

"In the bedside table, like you always did," Sara nodded.

"Good girl," her father turned to Laurel and gave her a hug, which Laurel returned awkwardly - and this time she could pass it off as being because of the ice pack on her wrist. "You did good, helping Sara. But you can't do that, alright? You can't be reckless like that."

_Yes, I can._

"I... yes dad. I just... I wasn't thinking. Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," her father said softly, then turned back to Sara. "You know how this is going to go."

Sara nodded. "Administrative leave, review, at least one session with a therapist for a psych eval before I can go back to active duty." Sara took in a shuddering breath. "I killed a guy, Dad. I've shot people, been shot at... I've never killed anyone. He's dead - and... it was self-defense, he was going to kill me, kill Laurel, but I should - I should feel bad, shouldn't I? I should feel... _something?!_ "

Her father put his hands on Sara's shoulder. "You will - scum or not, self-defense or not, you killed a guy, and you will and should feel bad about it. Means you're a good person, which of course you are. But you're in shock right now. I've been where you are. Take the days off, and it's gonna suck, but really work with the therapist, alright?"

Sara nodded. Laurel looked past them to see Oliver standing outside the apartment. "Ollie!" Laurel rushed over to him, hugging him tightly and briefly before pulling back and speaking in a low murmur - and in Russian, just in case someone did overhear.

"It was Somers. He wasn't convinced by your last visit. He sent the Triad to kill my sister and he's _going_ to pay." Her voice went from a murmur to a low growl of anger at what Somers had tried to do. "You want to come along, you can, but Somers is _mine_."

"Laurel, no," Oliver replied in Russian, speaking just as quietly. "You're too angry to go after him, if you have any choice. I can handle him - right now, your sister needs you." He gestured to Sara, who was still talking to their father. "Because right now, she looks like I felt the first time after I had to kill someone. And I know I wanted more than anything to have you or mom or dad or... someone there in the aftermath. And he was an _accident_."

"I am _not_ going to just sit here after Somers sent the Triad to kill my sister! I _am_ going after him." Laurel couldn't stay... she couldn't comfort her sister, because she couldn't do that would risking revealing too much information - about how she knew what it was like to take a life... and she'd taken a lot of lives.

Most of them _not_ in self-defense.

"Laurel, you're compromised-" Oliver started to protest, but Laurel cut him off, hissing - all still in Russian.

"I don't care! And you wouldn't either if it was Thea! I'm not planning on killing him, if that's what you're worried about, but he will _wish_ I did when I'm done with him!"

Oliver inhaled sharply, "I can't stop you... and if I can't talk you out of it, then I'm not letting you do it alone. You might not care that your anger could compromise you, but I do. We can't run off right this second-"

"I know," Laurel looked back at her sister and Dad, who were embracing again. "But we can't wait for long. The Triad will clean up all loose ends, and Somers will know that. He's going to try to run."

"I'm pretty sure there's nowhere on earth Somers can run to that you wouldn't be able to catch him, but you're right - we should do our best to make sure that doesn't happen."

Laurel took Oliver’s hand and went back into the apartment. They'd have to make some kind of excuse, and Laurel didn't _want_ to leave Sara alone like this... but she didn't have any choice. She couldn't stay, and she couldn't _not_ go after Somers.

The Black Canary - or the Banshee - was going to be citywide news tomorrow...but Laurel couldn't bring herself to really care.


	5. Shot Through The - Wait, Poisoned Bullets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I still don't own Arrow or any of the other CWDCTV shows.
> 
> Felicity will be showing up. She will be a character in this fic, much as she was a character in Season 1 of the show. I liked her (more or less) until season 3 (and even sometimes after, though less often), which got... messy, and she does bring useful things to the table here in Season 1, narratively speaking.
> 
> I appreciate Felicity is... a divisive character, especially among Lauriver shippers (presumably the primary readership of this fic). She certainly is for me. I'd ask you to bear with me, because I'm planning to avoid the things that (I think) went wrong with her character. Your mileage may vary, but give it a chance por favor.
> 
> I can say that there will never be Olicity, or even a hint of it. Felicity will be attracted to Oliver, as one might expect, but she'll never develop her pining crush or anything like that - one, he's very taken, and two, like any rational, normal person should, Felicity will (in this fic) see all the baggage Oliver's carrying around and not want anything to do with that. I love Oliver, but _man_ , dude. His issues have baggage and his baggage has issues.
> 
> For the curious, based on what I could tell, 'Ala'ana' has a similar usage in Arabic as 'damn' or 'damn it'' does in English. I admit I'm not an expert in Arabic or the swear words in the language, but after nearly three years in the League, where it's implied they spoke mostly Arabic on a daily basis, it made sense to me that Laurel might swear in that language, so I did a little research - not the most extensive, but I checked a few places to get some idea of what would work.
> 
> Also, for the record, fight scenes are really not my thing, so I apologize in advance if the scene at the end feels lackluster.
> 
> As always, many thanks to WillOzSummers for their beta-reading services

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 5: Shot Through The - Wait, Poisoned Bullets?

_What seperates a Superhero from a Vigilante from a Criminal? It's an easy line to cross - and there are some, even today who believe the line begins and ends, always at Criminal. Others who consider it a miscarriage of justice that the Arrow was never brought to task for the murders he committed in his first year, even if the city officially pardoned him._

_There's a reason that private pursuit of justice is outlawed, and historically has been - why metahumans and others that seek to fight crime with... exceptional abilities now almost always operate under the rubric of some sort of agency or taskforce, legally empowered to act within constraints._

_And yet, history has proven, the history of the Arrow, the Black Canary, and soon after them, many others - the Flash, Frostbite, Vixen - have all proven that there is a reason for Vigilantes to act, when the law can't, or when the law simply hasn't caught up. And yet..._

_It's not a perfect system, letting private individuals enforce their own justice. All it takes is to be wrong once too often, too late. To slip in one's rectitude. To simply realize that the rules might just not apply to you anymore... so why?_

_There's a reason the SCPD tried so very hard to catch the 'Hood' and the 'Banshee', at first. And it wasn't just a matter of professional jealousy or trying to cater to the demands of the terrified rich of the city._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**The Glades**

**October 19th, 2012**

"Hello Sin," Laurel landed in front of the teenager as she walked into the alley. To her credit, Sin didn't drop the soda or the bag of fast food she was carrying at the sight of a masked woman dropping down from a roof right in front of her.

Sin raised an eyebrow, "So... what, is this gonna be our thing? You drop in once a week like a druggie mom visiting the kid that's in foster care, promising rehab is working?" She scoffed and looked around, "Should I started keeping an eye out for you every time I walk into an alley now?" Unsurprisingly, Sin was throwing up walls of sarcasm and nonchalance. Somehow, Laurel suspected the teen would be annoyed if she realized just how predictable she was being.

"Well, I can't exactly just walk around the streets of the Glades dressed like this," Laurel pointed out, gesturing to the modified League uniform she wore.

Sin gave a short laugh at that and nodded. "Yeah, I guess not. You've made some waves the last week, pissed some people off, beating people up all over the Glades."

"Not 'people'. Criminals. Caught in the act, even," Laurel countered. "Parasites preying on the weak, the desperate, usually their own neighbors. They deserve what they get."

Sin gave her a weird look, "Right. Should have figured you'd be all intense, after I heard about the 'psycho bitch in black' that hit those heroin dealers, broke their arms and legs and dumped their stash in the sewer. I guess the rats had a good night though." Sin took a sip from her soda, then went on, "You do realize people want you dead now? Heard the boss of that dealer you hit has a price on the head of 'The Banshee'."

"Black Canary," Laurel corrected. Then she shrugged, "I'll have to work on that part." She'd already known that she'd have to actually tell people she attacked, or people she saved, just who she was. The Banshee was a monster of horror, something to be scared of, and nothing but. She wanted criminals to be afraid of her. But the people of the Glades? No, they couldn't be afraid of her. They needed to understand that she was on their side.

"There's a reason I haven't 'dropped in' until now," Laurel went on with a shrug. "I've been busy, and I had to make sure no one else would be around to see me talk to you." Sin couldn't become a target. "But I did keep an eye on you, even if we didn't talk." She stepped aside, to let Sin walk past her, which the teen did. Laurel walked alongside her, though.

After a few feet, though, Sin drew up short and turned to look at Laurel. "Look, I appreciate what you did, bringing me that picture, telling me... telling me about my dad. I really do." Her voice grew soft, sounding completely genuine for a moment, "It's... it's good to know that he didn't just... run out on me, like I thought he did." The sarcasm returned to her voice once more. "But I'm not looking looking for a new mom, or a big sister, or whatever the hell it is you're trying to be, so you can stop keeping an eye on me and randomly dropping in."

_I know I'm wearing a mask, but does she really think I'm old enough to be her mother?_ Then again, when Laurel had been Sin's age, she'd thought anyone over the age of twenty-five counted as 'old', so there was that.

"How about a friend?" Laurel offered, still walking alongside Sin as the teenage runaway started walking again.

Sin scoffed, "What? The superheroine wants to be friends with some random street kid? Kinda doubt it."

"I'm not a superheroine," Laurel corrected.

"Lady, you wear a mask, have a superhero name and beat up criminals. Sounds like a superheroine to me."

"There are no such thing as superheroes. Or heroes in general, really," Laurel explained. "I'm a vigilante, and I'm trying to help the Glades, but I'm not a heroine. Heroes are a myth we tell ourselves to feel better about the world."

Sin laughed again, a bit darkly. "That's cold."

"That's reality." Laurel hoped to inspire the Glades, to be seen as the protector... but there was nothing heroic about striking from the shadows, about leaving people with multiple broken bones behind, about enacting what was essentially private justice. That was what the League did. Laurel was just doing it more geographically targeted, with less death. But it was the same.

The League of Assassins was many things, but heroic wasn't one of them.

_And the kinds of people who could qualify as 'superheroes' are the kinds of people you don't want to ever meet._ If there was one thing she'd learned in the League, it was that power, especially magical power, came at a price. One too steep to be worth paying.

"And you want to be my friend?"

"Why not?" Laurel shrugged, "You're right, I didn't have to keep an eye on you, I didn't have to drop by a second time. I kept my word to your father and that's that. But you're not exactly rolling in friends - are you really going to be so choosy?"

Sin laughed a third time, sounding the most genuinely amused she'd been yet. "Maybe not. I guess it would be pretty badass to have some hot vigilante chick as a friend. But I'm guessing I'm not gonna get your name, or see what you look like behind the mask just yet."

Laurel smiled, "No, not yet. Maybe never. Maybe someday."

Sin said nothing for a moment as they walked in silence. "You don't kill people - no one you attacked is dead."

"I don't kill if I can help it," Laurel nodded.

"But that Robin Hood guy you were with last night, when you attacked the docks. He does. You're cool with that?"

Laurel inhaled sharply, "Not exactly." She couldn't stop Oliver - and she couldn't judge him. She understood why he was so much readier to kill - if they refused to make amends any other way, death was a viable option for Oliver's targets.

But she wasn't 'cool' with it. Maybe the cancer Oliver went after could only be cut out, but that didn't make it pretty, didn't make it something she _wanted_.

"But you worked with him anyway." Sin smirked, "What, is he your boyfriend?"

Laurel shook her head, "More like a... fellow traveller." The lie was easy, of course. "We have occasional common interests. But his goals and mine aren't the same, apart from the fact that we both want to help save Starling City."

Sin shook her head, "Maybe I called you cold too soon. Anyone who things this place can be saved..." She scoffed, "I'd say good luck, but you're trying to do the impossible."

"Maybe. But someone has to," Laurel said with a shrug. "I'll see you around. Sooner this time."

**The Foundry**

**October 25th, 2012**

Laurel knew the herbs would work, would cure whatever poison that was on the bullet Ollie had been grazed with, but as she stood there, watching... she felt helpless, tension tight in her muscles.

A hospital was out of the question, not when they had an option they knew would work, not when there was another option... but watching him lie there, barely breathing - but breathing - for nearly an hour was...

It wasn't hell, but you could see it from there.

_Standing here and watching him won't get you anywhere, Laurel._ She closed her eyes and took a breath. Oliver would be fine, in the end. She knew that. She knew how good those herbs were, what they could do.

Opening her eyes again, Laurel turned back to the bloody pieces of gauze, then found the poison-testing kit. There were a number of possibilities as to what could have been on that bullet, but... poisoned bullets weren't exactly a common thing.

The League made it a point to be aware of other assassins in the world, at least the high-profile ones. The ones that made names for themselves, that no one could catch. Sometimes the League saw fit to remind other assassins just _why_ Ra's Al Ghul should always be feared the most, out of all who dealt death, and sometimes it was merely a matter of... professional interest.

The fact of the matter was, only rarely did assassins kill people who didn't, on some level, deserve it. Like James Holder. Not only would he have enemies from the friends and family of those who had died in the fires exacerbated by his defective smoke alarms, but corrupt businessmen usually worked with and against other corrupt businessmen. And there was no honor among parasites and thieves.

And there was one assassin who came to mind for Laurel. Someone who was especially known for poisoned bullets. Someone the League hadn't gone after, but it had been considered at one point, because of the man's arrogance and success.

The League didn't even know his name, just the name others had given him.

Deadshot.

And there was only one way to know for sure if this was Deadshot. Laurel selected the proper testing agent, dripped it slowly onto the bloody gauze, held at a remove by forceps, and watched as it slowly turned blue.

Curare.

"Ala'ana _"_ Laurel muttered the Arabic swear under her breath. It was him. No one else used curare on bullets.

It would take a few more hours for Oliver to recover... perhaps there was something useful she could figure out on how to find Deadshot, if he was still in the city. He was known for jobs that required multiple hits - and they wouldn't be lucky enough for them all to be men like James Holder.

And even if they were, what Deadshot delivered wasn't justice. It wasn't even retribution.

**Queen Manor**

**October 25th, 2012**

"You look like crap," Thea said as she walked by him, a smug look on her face. Which, given that she'd just gotten away with breaking into a store and not going to school on top of it, he wasn't surprised.

Oliver started to say something, but stopped. He'd been away from the house all night, far longer than intended, and he couldn't exactly tell his sister or mother why.

He walked over to his mother, "You're letting her play hooky?"

"When your sister gets like this, it's best to give her her space," she replied.

"She's testing you, Mrs. Queen," Laurel said, walking up beside him. "I know because she's acting exactly how Sara did at her age." And Sara too, had done her fair share of petty theft, that Quentin Lance had also brushed under the rug... though not with money and connections in the city's elite. He'd had to call in favors with judges and overworked prosecutors.

_On the other hand, look at Sara now._ It gave him some hope that once Thea could get past this acting out, this rebellion

Even if 'getting past' losing her father and brother and only getting her brother back barely wasn't exactly a simple prospect.

"I wonder where she learned that from," his mother looked pointedly at Oliver, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurel's expression shift a little, acknowledging that she had a point.

Which she did. Oliver wouldn't deny that. Which made getting through to Thea harder, but it didn't change the fact that his mother was being far too lenient.

"Mom... when I was Thea's age, you and dad let me get away with murder. Looking back, I could have used less space, and more parenting." Oliver had made his own - terrible, in many cases - choices before the Island, as a spoiled rich kid, and he couldn't blame his parents for them.

But they hadn't taught him any notion of consequences, not really. He wasn't joking about the 'get away with murder' part either. He was quite sure they would have swept it completely under the rug if they could, had he killed someone back then.

His mother probably still would now, for that matter. Or try to.

**Queen Steel Mill**

**October 25th, 2012**

"So what do you think? Great spot for a nightclub, or what?" Oliver asked Tommy as he pushed the doors open.

"Sweet," Tommy said looking around. "Though, I gotta tell you man, if you're thinking about calling it Queen's, you're probably not gonna get the kind of clientele you're hoping for."

Oliver pointed up to the old floor manager's office, raised above the rest of the main area. "Private office."

"I'm guessing you and Laurel will take advantage of that every now and again," Tommy said with a laugh, and Oliver smiled slightly. Tommy walked around a moment, then looked back over at him. "You're sure you wanna do this though, man? I mean, it's not like you have any experience running - well, anything. I mean, last week you're pretty publicly turning down a spot in your family's company and now you wanna start your own business?"

Oliver let out a breath, "Working in some leadership position in the corporate world and running a nightclub are two different things," he pointed out. "Taking that position would have been a stepping stone to becoming CEO in a few years, as far as Mom would have been concerned..." He shook his head. "But, I think I've been in and out of enough nightclubs and parties to at least be able to have a chance at running one myself."

Tommy chuckled, "There is that. Still, it has been five years since you've been a regular on the club scene," he pointed out, and Oliver nodded. "So tonight, why don't we go to the hottest new club in town, scope out the competition? Max Fuller has this new place, Poison-"

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Max Fuller?" Tommy nodded. "Tommy, I slept with his fiance." That one, at least, had been before he and Laurel had been dating, but he was pretty sure Fuller hadn't forgiven him before he'd gotten onto the _Queen's Gambit_... and he doubted Fuller would have forgiven him yet.

"Yeah, before the wedding," Tommy said, sounding dismissive.

"It was at the rehearsal dinner," Oliver pointed out, and Tommy nodded.

"Yeah, and the rehearsal dinner is technically before the wedding. Besides, who stays mad at a castaway? Even Laurel's dad doesn't hate you anymore."

"I think that's more because Laurel told him to cut it out, and he's just happy she's back so he'll take it. I'm sure he's still convinced I'm not good enough for her."

Tommy laughed, "If there's one thing I'm pretty sure about, it's that Detective Lance doesn't think _anyone_ is good enough for Laurel. Or Sara, for that matter." Oliver raised an eyebrow at Tommy's words, wondering if he was suggesting anything, then Tommy laughed, "No, no. Not that Sara isn't hot or a great person in general, but she's not really my type." His voice got a little maudlin, though just a touch.

"We just... you know... spent a lot of time together, the first couple years after you and Laurel 'died'. Mourning, commiserating. Getting way too drunk together, a few times. Detective Lance was _convinced_ we were together, and that I'd get her killed the way he thought you'd..." Tommy trailed off a little, and Oliver realized he'd let his expression harden and he forced himself to relax a little. "I mean, he didn't clean his gun in front of me, but he made sure it was quite visible when he told me to stay away from Sara."

"I'm sorry, Tommy," Oliver said softly, and Tommy shook his head,

"Enough with the sad shit man. You're not dead, and tonight, you and I are going clubbing. No argument," he added, before Oliver could say anything. "It's been years, I'm sure Fuller's not gonna still be angry at you." Before he could say anything else, Tommy's phone rang and he took a look at the caller ID. "Alright, I've got to roll. I'll see you at Poison. Good place." As he walked away, Oliver looked over at Diggle, who had watched and listened to the whole exchange without any reaction.

"So... what do you think?" He was increasingly sure that if he phrased it right, presented it right, he'd be able to convince Diggle to help Laurel and him in their efforts to save this city. Thanks to his previous 'working relationship' with ARGUS, he still had (limited) access to their network and files, and that included files on John Diggle, the kind of man he was, the kind of soldier he'd been. Diggle was a native of Starling City, a man who'd served three tours not just because he was good at it, but because he was the kind of man who was more than willing to put his life on the line for a cause greater than himself, if it meant helping protect people.

Now it was just a matter of slowly getting to be sure with Diggle, and talk him around to helping, to showing him what Oliver was trying to do, what Laurel was trying to do. How to save this city. _Sooner or later, he's going to put all the pieces together._ Diggle had probably already filled out parts of the puzzle as it was.

"I'm here to provide security, sir, not commentary," the veteran replied with a shrug.

"Do me a favor, Diggle, speak freely," Oliver insisted. "What do you think?"

Diggle looked around the room a moment, "Well, this is the Glades. Your rich white friends wouldn't come to this neighborhood on a bet." The man wasn't entirely wrong, unfortunately. But there _were_ advantages to his name.

"I'm Oliver Queen. I mean, it's been five years, but I used to be a big deal on the party scene," Oliver pointed out. "You don't think people wouldn't stand in line for hours if I opened a club?"

"And no one who actually lives in the Glades would actually see a penny of those cover charges," Diggle pointed out, but at least he was willing to concede the first point.

"As it stands, no one who actually lives in the Glades is seeing a penny out of this place," Oliver pointed out, gesturing all around him. "But if there's a thriving club, a successful business... I mean, I did flunk out of a lot of business classes in the four colleges I went to, but I learned a few things - money comes where there's money. So if the club takes off.." he shrugged, "it gentrifies the neighborhood."

"I was wondering when we'd get to that," Diggle replied, his tone almost but not quite remaining respectful. "The white knight swooping in to save the disenfranchised? All by his lonesome, with no help from anybody." _Not alone, and not without help. Would he rather I do nothing?_ Oliver was rich, his family was rich... and they'd made their money on helping ruin this city, at least to a great extent. His father wasn't as bad as the men on the list, and he at least had felt guilt about what he'd done, but he'd hurt this city.

"Wow. You don't think much of me, do you?"

"No, actually sir, I have a very high regard for how... perceptive you are," Diggle replied with a slight smirk playing across his face for a moment.

Ultimately, his aim for the club was merely a cover, for what he was really doing. But Oliver did have _some_ hope it could help the city in other ways. Once he was done with the list... if it was ever possible to be...

Well, it would be nice to have something he could be doing that _wasn't_ more killing.

**Starling City Police Department**

**October 25th, 2012**

Sara had served her administrative leave, seen a therapist and was now back to work. She'd had a few... brief nightmares about killing that man, the would-be assassin, but thankfully just that much.

Her dad had been right - she had been numb, those first few hours after killing him, and then it had all really hit her. At the same time, he'd been there to kill her, kill her sister, on the orders of Somers, working for the Triad. If she'd died, Sara doubted that she'd have been his first kill.

Didn't make it any easier, but at least it meant that it wasn't getting any worse. And now she was back on the job, doing more paperwork to close out a small case, getting ready in case she was called to testify at Somers' trial. She didn't think she would, but it was possible the DA or Somers' legal team might try it.

Of course, with his confession on record thanks to the two vigilantes - who the media were now calling 'The Hood' and 'The Banshee'- , and the testimony of the surviving assassin, Somers' legal team didn't have much chance of getting their client off.

Thank god.

_How did Laurel do it?_ Sara kept thinking back to that night, the way Laurel had taken on _China White_ , a woman who, according to the FBI and Interpol, was apparently even more deadly than she'd heard. She'd tried to ask her sister, but every time she'd been about to vocalize the question, something would come up, for her or for Laurel.

And Laurel's excuses were comparatively thin.

_Was she really alone on that island, all five years, just Oliver?_ Sara had looked at pictures of her sister's scars, and apparently Oliver's were as bad, or worse. Could all those injuries _really_ happen just from surviving alone on an island, just the two of them?

Before she could let those thoughts meander anymore, her father approached her desk. "Sara, I need a favor."

"Since when do you need to ask your daughter for a favor?" Sara asked, smiling. "How's your case going? Detective Hilton finally accepting that the Hood didn't kill Holder?" She agreed with her father that it seemed hard to believe that the archer would have suddenly switched to a sniper rifle, especially at the same time as using arrows. There had to be a second player. What Sara wondered was if the assassin was working with or against the vigilante.

_I know dad would give me a lot of grief if I said this, but he almost seems like he's trying to help._ With Hunt, with Somers, with almost everyone he'd gone after, he gave them a chance before coming at them a second time.

But he'd also put a lot of men in the hospital and in the morgue - guards, and the ones that hadn't done what he demanded they do to make up for their actions.

Murder was murder, that much she agreed with her father on. Extrajudicial execution wasn't okay. Private justice was wrong.

_And yet, he did something the official justice system couldn't - bring down Martin Somers._

"Well, not just Holder now. Carl Rasmussen is dead too. Same guy - and yeah, not the Hood. Some sniper with poison bullets. Right through the heart for both of them. They have something in common too - both were bidding on some company that's going to auction tomorrow: Unidac Industries. Which brings me around to the favor - one of the other people doing the bidding is Walter Steele."

Sara blinked, "You think he's behind it?"

Quentin shook his head, "I don't really think so, though he's gotta be a suspect. But given how I've treated his wife and her family the last five years, I don't think he's going to be super-receptive to me showing up to ask him questions about it all. You on the other hand..."

"Didn't spend five years blaming Moira Queen for Laurel's death?" Sara finished for him.

"Yeah... that. I meant what I said when I apologized for everything..." he shook his head, "But I'm not sure five years of thinly veiled harassment that could have probably cost me my badge if I'd went any further just goes away like that." He snapped his fingers.

Sara nodded. She understood where her dad was going. "I'll let them know what's going on... maybe they'll have some idea as to which buyer is doing it."

"I'll take that much if I can get it. Hilton and me - we'll be going around to the other buyers, but it would probably work better if you talked to Steele."

**Queen Manor**

**October 25th, 2012**

"Sara," Moira Queen said, giving her a hug as she walked into the foyer. "What a pleasant surprise." Sara returned the hug and Moira stepped back a moment later. "I heard about what happened last week... are you alright?"

"As good as I can be," Sara nodded. "I heard about what happened with Thea."

Moira frowned, "She's been acting out for years but... I never expected her to go this far. I know you've tried to reach out to her..."

"I've tried, to not much affect. But she's only seventeen Moira. When I was her age... well, I was as bad as her, maybe worse. If Dad hadn't called in favors, I'd have landed myself in juvie or worse." She shrugged, "I mean, she shouldn't have her life ruined because she got drunk and made a mistake... even if she shouldn't be having alcohol for another four years."

"The fact that you grew up to be a Detective does give me hope that she'll grow out of this phase, but in the meantime..." Moira shrugged, "I don't know how to talk to her, how to make her understand."

"I can try to talk to her again, if you want?" Sara offered. "But actually, I'm here for work-related reasons. Is Walter here?"

Moira raised an eyebrow, "He is - should I be concerned? Do I need to call our-"

"The SCPD has some reason to believe his life might be in danger," Sara admitted, and Moira paled a little, going tense. She held up a hand, "Unidac Industries - that company he's bidding on?" Moira nodded, "James Holder and Carl Rasmussen were both bidding on it as well, and they're dead now..."

"Oh god... I'd heard about Holder, but Carl?" Moira let out a shaky breath. "What is _happening_ in this city?"

**The Foundry**

**October 26th, 2012**

Thanks to what Laurel had known about their sniper 'Deadshot', Oliver had gone to to the Bratva, and sure enough, they'd had a location for their sniper.

Unfortunately, the man had gotten away, and the laptop he'd been using was too damaged for any files to be recovered.

"Working with ARGUS gave me _some_ hacking skills, but this... this isn't something I can work with," Oliver said, frowning. "And I doubt the League taught you anything that would help us with this."

"You'd be surprised how modern the League is willing to be, when it benefits them," Laurel replied. "But no, I was never given any tech lessons." She swore again in Arabic, a habit she'd picked up in the League.

"I have an idea. We talked about more people, and we've talked about Diggle, but I've been doing some digging into the IT and Tech people at Queen Consolidated - the ones in the home office here in Starling City, anyway." He pulled up the file. "This one caught my eye - Felicity Smoak."

Laurel looked at the screen. "Pretty. High aptitude test results for computers, High IQ... and persistently stuck in a Mid-level IT position because of persistent foot in mouth syndrome." She looked over at Oliver. "Why her in particular? She could probably pull the files, but so could a lot of people at QC... and even as the son of Robert Queen, you can't just bring around a laptop full of bullet holes without raising red flags with someone."

"There's a bit more to it - when Miss Smoak was in college, her boyfriend was arrested for trying to hack and wipe student loan records. And ARGUS flagged her as a possible threat around that time, but since she doesn't seem to have done anything _since_ , they've left her alone." Oliver explained his theory about what happened, based on the ARGUS information he had access to - Felicity's boyfriend had probably had help designing the code that was used for the hack, but at some point, Felicity had clearly decided she wasn't interested in something so blatantly criminal.

Probably one of the hackers who did it as a challenge, rather than really trying to change the world or promote some sort of agenda.

But she also had not testified against him. So though she had moral compass, so it seemed, she also didn't seem likely to just go to the cops and tell them everything.

"Besides, I _am_ Robert Queen's son. People at QC probably won't want to ask a whole lot of questions. And if she decides to make a big deal out of this... well, then she's not a viable candidate. But it would be good to have someone who is better with computers onboard, eventually."

Laurel nodded but then she added, "If she ends up _not_ being onboard with everything, if you eventually tell her, we'll find another option than killing her." Oliver nodded at her words. He'd figured she'd raise that point, and while he knew it would be risky, there would be other options, if it came to that.

"Of course not." Killing was... simpler, but he didn't like it. And Felicity Smoak really didn't seem like she deserved it. "It'll take some time, but we can test her, see how suspicious she starts to get, and what she does with those suspicions."

"And if nothing else, you can probably use that patented Oliver Queen charm," Laurel said almost teasingly.

**Queen Consolidated HQ, IT Department**

**October 26th, 2012**

Oliver hadn't even really tried to be particularly clever with his lies. A spilled latte, and a coffee shop in a bad neighborhood were obvious lies that would make Felicity Smoak wonder, and give Oliver a chance to see what she did with it. Would she try to dig into him? Alert the police? Alert someone else?

Or would she just accept the lie because she didn't want anything else to do with it?

So far, she seemed to be of a mind to just... ignore the weirdness. It had taken her nearly an hour to extract the information she could from the laptop into something resembling a usable form, but now she did have it.

He didn't even find her babbling all that annoying - it was just a quirk, and a lot less murderous or dangerous than some people's quirks.

"Looks like blueprints," Felicity said, as the information displayed on her screen.

"Do you know what of?" He didn't recognize them off-hand...

  
Felicity nodded, "The Exchange Building." She looked over at him, obviously expecting some sort of recognition, and went on, "It's where the Unidac Industries auction is scheduled to take place." Once more she expected him to know the name.

"I thought... you said this was _your_ laptop," she managed to keep her tone surprisingly level.

"Yes," Oliver lied blandly, shaking his head.

Felicity shook her head, "Look, I don't wanna get in the middle of some Shakespearean family drama thing."

Oliver blinked. What did some dead guy who wrote plays have to do with anything?

"What?"

"Mr. Steele marrying your mom. Claudius, Gertrude... Hamlet?"

"I didn't study Shakespeare at any of the four schools I dropped out of," Oliver explained. The Odyssey on the other hand...

Felicity stared at him for a moment, as if stunned at the very notion - which she probably was, most people who dropped out of college settled for dropping out of just the one - then blinked, took a breath and started to explain.

"Mr. Steele is trying to buy Unidac Industries. There's an auction tonight - and you've got a company laptop associated with one of the guy's he's competing against to get it."

Oliver nodded, "Floyd Lawton."

"No." She pointed to the screen, and he saw the name she was pointing at. "Warren Patel. Who's Floyd Lawton?"

_And now we have the man behind the sniper._ "He is... an employee, of Mr. Patel, evidently." He turned to look at her. "Can you copy all this onto a drive?" Felicity nodded. "And... I'd really appreciate it if you didn't talk about this with anyone."

Felicity held up a hand. "Like I said, I don't want anything to do with whatever's going on, Shakespearean or otherwise.

**The Exchange Building**

**October 26th, 2012**

"Looks like my dad took your warning seriously," Laurel said as she looked at the cops in the main room - and there were more on the perimeter, she knew.

"He is a good cop," Oliver nodded. "His obsession with putting me behind bars notwithstanding." They were at a remove from most of the gathering for now, speaking quietly and at least at the moment, there was no one around who could hear them."

"And everything went fine with Felicity Smoak? Or do we need contingencies?" Laurel had a few ideas. The simplest would be to find some way to frame Felicity for a crime - nothing too serious, but something that would detract from her credibility and take her out of circulation for a year or two, in some minimum security white-collar crime prison. That idea had its downsides, but it was better than killing her for the crime of wanting to obey the law. If it came to that.

"Fine, she said something about not wanting to get involved in 'Shakespearean family drama', so I think she'll leave it alone." _Shakespearean family drama?_ Laurel's confusion must have shown on her face, because Oliver went on. "I have no idea what she was talking about either - she mentioned something about a Claudius, Gertude and Hamlet? And that related to Walter marrying my mom." He shrugged.

Realization dawned on Laurel, and she chuckled, "I suppose you having one of Walter's competitor's laptops could look like that." She explained the play to him, quickly, " _Hamlet_ is one of Shakespeare's plays - the prince character is Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark, and he's come home from education abroad to find his father dead, and his mother remarried to his uncle. He finds out his uncle killed his father and swears to avenge him. It's a whole thing, and it's honestly not one of my favorites, even if lots of people consider it one of Shakespeare's best works."

Which she really didn't get. Even as far as the tragedies went, Laurel prefered _King Lear_ or _Macbeth_.

"Ah," Oliver said at least somewhat understanding. He looked around, "Lawton will have to get started soon, or it's going to be too late."

"On the off chance we're lucky, maybe he's decided this is too much heat," she couldn't even pretend to believe that though. Lawton's reputation, both from Oliver's partial ARGUS access and the stories of Deadshot she'd picked up from the League, made it clear he didn't quit jobs, he didn't walk away as long as the money was still good.

**Tower Near Exchange Building**

**October 26th, 2012**

It was only thanks to Detective Lance that Walter didn't get shot, but that still left Lawton. It was amazing how quickly someone could gear up when they needed to do it in a hurry, on the move, but it still cost precious time to get to the tower where Lawton was firing from as he rode a chain attached to an arrow across the distance, crashing in through the window. Moments later, Laurel arrived, right behind him...

And then they were both splitting apart, diving for cover as Lawton started to shoot them with his wrist mounted machine gun. He shot wildly, less concerned with actually hitting either of them and more keeping them from coming at him. To keep Oliver from being able to actually _aim_.

Then the bullets stopped, and they were all three moving in the dim shadows of the room, waiting for the opening to attack the other without getting exposed. Lawton had a trump card in the form of his poisoned bullets - because even his machine gun bullets probably would be laced with curare.

_It's what I would do in his place._ All it would take was one shot. Which meant neither of them could take the kinds of risks they were usually willing to take against armed opponents.

Oliver caught Laurel's eye and jerked his head to the left meaningfully. She shook her head, making a cutting gesture with her hand and holding up her sonic device. Oliver nodded, getting ready - even with the protective ear equipment, it wasn't _pleasant_ to hear that thing go off.

Laurel turned the device on standby, dropped into a crouch, and tossed it, rolling backwards at the same time as a hail of bullets connected with where she'd been moments later. Lawton staggered back as the scream pierced through the air, all the windows shattering - the assassin covered his ears, doubling over - but only for a moment.

That moment was all Oliver needed though. As Laurel started around the perimeter of the room, ready to come at Lawton from behind, Oliver came at the man, hitting him from behind and sending him sprawling. Lawton got back to his feet and the hand-to-hand fight was on. Oliver managed to knock Lawton's wrist-gun off in the fight, sending it skittering across the ground.

"I did my research before I came to this city," Lawton said, ducking under a punch. "Heard about you, about your Banshee friend. Came prepared," He gestured to the earpiece he'd put on while under the effects of Laurel's device. Lawton's next blow connected with Oliver's chest, sending him staggering back a pace. "You know, I really admire your work. Can't you extend me some professional courtesy?"

"We're not in the same line of work," Oliver growled.

"You kill people, I kill people... your girlfriend on the other hand-" Lawton dove to the right, spun around and made to kick Laurel's feet out from under her before she could attack him - she sidestepped his attack easily, but then Lawton grabbed his gun. He started firing, but now Oliver dove, Laurel came at him from behind, a tonfa connecting with his wrist, _hard_ \- there was a sickening crack as the bones broke. To his credit, Lawton made no sound of pain beyond a low grunt - before he could start firing again, Oliver pulled a bow from his arrow and fired - right in the man's neck. WIth a spurt of blood and a strangled, gurgling sound, Lawton fell to the ground.

He was about to approach the man, make _absolutely sure_ , he was dead, when Laurel's eyes widened, Oliver heard a pained gasp from behind him, and he turned to look at the source.

Diggle, clutching at his lower torso, blood spreading past his fingers.

As Oliver rushed for the man, he knew the best chance for his 'bodyguard' was the Foundry. There was no way to get to a hospital and get him treated as quickly as the herbs there, from Lian Yu, could...

_I guess we'll find out where Diggle stands on the Hood._


	6. Expanding the Roster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow.
> 
> I apologize for the delay - my writing process has a lot of advantages for me, in terms of my life situation, but the great weakness I can't do away with completely is that when it stalls out, it stalls out _hard_. On the plus side, when it isn't stalled, it moves pretty quick, overall, and takes a few months between stallings, so expect at least 4-5 chapters, possibly even many more, before another few month break, which is probably unavoidable eventually.
> 
> I hate my job. Anyway,
> 
> I skipped over several scenes from the show that are essential to the plot of the episode itself, but I make it a general rule only to include scenes originally from the show if they happen significantly differently than in the show, or if they are essential to the chapter itself. Ideally, I've done a good job keeping you clear on what's going on where, but re-reading a summary of the episode should help if you get lost.
> 
> Thanks to WillOzSummers for beta-reading.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 6: Expanding the Roster

_One might ask why I'm writing this - and given my relation to the subjects of my historical interest here, can I even be objective? The answer to the latter, of course, is no. There's no way any historian can be truly objective - one must simply be aware of and honest about their biases, and try their best to contain them._

_As for why... this story needs to be told, and I'm in a unique position to tell that story. I may have never spoken with Oliver Queen or Laurel Lance, but unlike in most families, the stories told about the exploits of past forebears around the table at Queen family reunions are all completely true._

-Excerpt from the Foreword of "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD. Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**The Foundry**

**October 26th, 2012**

It had taken longer than Oliver would have liked for Diggle to wake up, but curare could do a number on the body, as he'd experienced all too well, and that medicine... well, it wasn't the most pleasant of things to experience, at the end of the day, to put it mildly. So they waited.

"You don't have to be here when he wakes up," Oliver said to Laurel, who was standing next to him. She was, like him, still in her vigilante outfit, bar the mask and hood, leaning back against the table, hands crossed in front of her chest. "There's no point him seeing both our faces if he decides he wants to go to the cops." Not that Oliver thought Diggle would, but still.

"He's not an idiot. We've both been prone to disappearing at around the same times, and if you're the Hood, it's pretty obvious I'm 'the Banshee', now isn't it?" Laurel pointed out, shaking her head.

Oliver nodded. That was true - which could cause them problems when Quentin or one of the other detectives in the SCPD got the footage of him 'finding' the vigilante's costume, but since it was Quentin's case, he'd do everything to avoid that obvious conclusion.

 _Though given that he_ ** _does_** _seem to be kind of accepting of me now..._ that could actually make the plan harder to execute. But probably not, at the end of the day.

Before he could say anything else, Diggle started to stir, forcing himself up into a sitting position on the table, his face damp with cold sweat, moving slowly, probably still disoriented.

"Hey," Oliver said. Diggle finished sitting up and looked across at him, sounding surprisingly incredulous:

"Oliver?" He paused, trying to stand up, hands still stabilizing himself on the other table he'd just been on. "You're that vigilante, the one shooting everyone..." He looked to Oliver's left, saw Laurel there. "And you're the one that's been in the Glades... the Hood and the Banshee..." he lunged at them, trying to punch them both, but his attack was sidestepped with ease, and all Diggle accomplished was nearly falling to the ground before grabbing the table.

"Easy, Dig, you were poisoned," Oliver started, trying to calm the man down, but all he got was another easily dodged punch and an angry 'son of a bitch' from Diggle. Oliver caught him this time, then shoved him very lightly to the side, letting the bodyguard catch himself on the table.

"We could have taken you anywhere - home, a hospital... we chose to take you here for a reason," Oliver started.

"You two really did lose your minds on that island," Diggle half-growled, apparently deciding against lunging a third time.

Laurel shook her head, "We didn't lose anything. We just found things, instead."

"Like what? Archery lessons? Tonfa fighting techniques?" He gestured to the weapons on Laurel's belt.

"Clarity," Oliver replied. "Starling City... is dying. It has been for years. It's been poisoned by an uncaring, criminal elite more focused on themselves than the people who suffer... and those people are left alone and forced to prey on each other by everyone else consumed in their own apathy." The List was his fight, his focus, but Laurel's fight in the Glades would be ultimately as important for saving Starling City in the long run. She would give them hope, just as he tore away their sources of despair.

It was something he'd never have been able to do.

"And what are you two going to do? Save the city yourselves, single-handedly?" Diggle scoffed, though the effect was ruined by his still present disorientation. It would pass soon.

"No. For one, I was hoping you'd help us. Make it three," Oliver started. "And this is more than that... this isn't about just killing them, but bringing them to justice, righting the wrongs they've done to this city. The wrongs my father did to this city... remove the parasites feeding on this city and show everyone else what will happen if they try to do the same."

"And it's giving people hope again," Laurel added. "Hope that there is justice in the world, that they can have their city back. Show people their own power. You're special forces out of Kandahar," she went on. 'It's perfect - you know what it's like to fight in a war. You understand what we're trying to do."

"You're not fighting a war," Diggle replied, sounding almost disgusted. "You're not soldiers. You're criminals." Oliver watched as Diggle looked at him head on. "You're a murderer, and you-" he looked over to her. "You're abetting him in all of it." Oliver saw Laurel flinch - not in a way anyone else would have noticed, but he knew her well enough - just a tiny bit at Diggle's accusation, before the other man half-limped out of the basement.

When he was gone, Oliver allowed himself a small smile. "Well. That went better than I expected... worse than I'd hoped." He looked over at Laurel. "What do you think?"

"I don't think he's going to sell us out, but I'm not so sure that he'll join up..." Laurel trailed off, shaking her head.

"No, he'll come around," Oliver said with certainty. He'd read Diggle right. He could get him to sign on.

**Queen Mansion**

**October 26th, 2012**

"Where have you two been?!" His mother demanded of them as they entered the mansion. "It's been _hours_ since the shooting and all you did was send a text message saying you were okay. A _text_ message!"

Oliver didn't - couldn't - say anything that would explain it. He'd been so focused on getting Diggle to the Foundry, then on his recovery and recruitment, he hadn't even thought about his mother and sister and even Walter not knowing where he was or if he was okay. The text had been Laurel's doing, borrowing his phone without him even realizing it and sending it off. _I can't demand that she cover for me with my family like that..._

"Mom... I-" He paused for a moment, then, "I'm sorry." There wasn't anything else he could really say. "When - when the bullets started firing... I panicked... I wasn't thinking. I just ran."

His mother's expression softened a little. Just a little. "Oliver... I just want to know you're okay. I don't need to know everything you're doing, but you are my son, and I care about your well-being. Especially after a mad shooter tries to kill my husband!"

"It won't happen again," Oliver promised.

**The Foundry**

**October 27th, 2012**

"Jason Brodeur. I don't know why he had Camille Declan murdered, but that has to be what happened," Oliver said firmly. "He's on the list - I don't think this Peter Declan did it."

"Going after a guy on the list, fine," Laurel replied, wiping down her brow and taking a sip of water, "but you can't be sure that Peter Declan is innocent. People do murder their spouses... Just because she worked for someone on your father's list doesn't mean he killed her and set her husband up."

"Given how completely open and shut the case is?" Oliver shook his head. "If I didn't have a reason to suspect Brodeur, sure, it seems simple. But given the list... it has to be a frame up. It's too tidy."

Laurel laughed, "That's not actually how crime works, but you're probably right. You need proof though, especially if you want to save Peter Declan's life. What we did with Somers won't work this time - Declan is being executed in a little over 48 hours. Any confession you get from Brodeur is going to have to be impeccable. Or you need something else to work with. If there _is_ something else. Why might Brodeur kill her?"

Oliver pulled up a news report on the computer: "Jason Brodeur was investigated for toxic dumping a few months before Camille Declan was killed. He was found in full compliance with all law and regulations. What if he wasn't? And what if Camille Declan found out? She was in the right department of his company to find out."

Laurel looked the report over - it was some business news website, talking about how Brodeur's stock prices had gone up after he passed inspection. If Camille Declan _was_ going to blow the whistle, he'd have to kill her or risk his entire company. _And the list hasn't been wrong yet, now has it?_

No, it hadn't. Laurel didn't know _why_ Robert Queen had assembled the list, but she could guess - blackmail, probably. By Oliver's own words, his father had said he'd helped to ruin Starling City, had helped to poison it. He might have been better than some of the others on this list, but...

If he'd known about these men's... extracurricular ways of making money or protecting their assets, then he could have used that. Would have, if he was even partially shady. And she'd heard rumors about Robert Queen, for years before the Queen's Gambit. Rumors Oliver had always ignored or dismissed or just didn't notice, but...

_Well, smoke and fire, right?_

Given all that, given the inspection...

"You'll need proof in case you can't get Brodeur to confess. But you don't even know where to begin to get that proof," Laurel pointed out. _But..._ well, this was a chance for Laurel to start something she'd been planning on, ever since she'd learned Sara was a detective. She wished her sister wasn't in the line of fire like that, taking such a dangerous job.

 _But now that she is, I need to make sure I can watch over her better, give her a line of communication to the Black Canary._ And, she hoped, to tell Sara the truth.

She hadn't broached that part with Oliver yet. He'd be against it - against telling their families the truth, sharing their identities. Which made sense for him - his sister, his mother and stepfather... they weren't cops, combating crime and, in the case of her father, leading the investigation into finding the vigilantes!

She would have to eventually, but not yet. This was groundwork.

"Why do I get the feeling that you have an idea about that?"

"I do. I can approach Sara -" She held up a hand before he could object, "I'll borrow your voice modulator. She's a detective, but she still has that rebellious streak she had growing up. You remember." She couldn't help but smile a little at the thought of her sister’s antics - even if they hadn't been funny at the time.

"I do. And you think she'll work with a vigilante because of it?"

"She was running an off the books investigation of Martin Somers. And based on some things Dad has said, and a few other things I've heard, that's far from the first time. She cares about justice more than the law. I can get her to look at the Camille Declan case file, see if there's a stone unturned we can work with. I'll talk to her tonight, and you handle the Glades for me." She gestured to his bow, "Maybe don't bring the bow."

**Sara Lance's Apartment**

**October 27th, 2012**

Long hours rarely afforded Sara the chance to date, and even when she had free time, what Sara usually wanted was to just have some time to herself, read a book or watch TV, and otherwise, just... unwind. Right now, there was a show on Netflix that had her name on it for some quality binge-watching.

She opened the door, reached for the light switch and then...

And then that light switch didn't work.

Sara pulled out her pistol, slowly walking into the living room. "You picked the wrong place to rob," she called out. "Show yourself and surrender now, and I won't shoot." She _hoped_ it was just an idiot robber, but the lights being cut kind of belied that notion. She started to reach for her phone, then turned suddenly towards the window at the sound of movement.

Standing over by the open window - a window she did not remember _leaving_ open - was a woman. She wore a black coat of some kind - it was hard to make out details, as her breaking and entering guest was staying in shadows. Her coat was hooded, and she compounded that with a mask that covered most of her face, leaving only her eyes and nose free.

At the woman's belt hung two metal sticks... exactly the weapons, in exactly the outfit that the other vigilante - the one with the lower profile, that had stuck to the Glades apart from that one time going after Martin Somers with The Hood - was known to use. Sara heard the stories picked up from criminals and locals in the Glades. They called her the Banshee, because she had some kind of _thing_ that made some sort of painful high-pitched noise.

"Hello, Detective," the woman said, her voice deep and distorted. _Voice modulator._ She held up her hands, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"You're the one they're calling the Banshee," Sara said, not lowering her weapon at all. _She's only gone after criminals... she helped bring down Somers..._ But she was also breaking the law. Assault, battery, trespassing... maybe not murder, but if she was working with The Hood, even a little, she was aiding and abetting him in that.

 _He's only killed people who deserved it - hell, The Banshee helped kill those bastards who tried to kidnap Oliver, Laurel and Tommy_...

_But murder is still murder..._

Sara knew she should demand the woman surrender, arrest her, bring her in - call for backup, _something._

But she didn't. Not yet.

"That's not my name. I'm the Black Canary," the vigilante replied, as if it was a perfectly normal thing to say. "But yes. That's me. But like I said," she kept her hands up, taking a step towards Sara, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Then you won't mind staying right there," Sara said. "What the hell are you doing here, in _my_ apartment? What the hell did you do to my electricity? I should be arresting you right now."

"It's just an interrupter. Your power will be fine when I leave," the woman - the Black Canary - replied. "As for arresting me... well, you could _try_." _Well, there is that._ It wasn't like they'd arrested the Hood, and this Black Canary was reportedly just as good. Sara took the chance to look over the woman. It was hard to make out details, but the outfit was somewhat form fitting, while looking like it might actually be practical as well... and her pants were tight-looking.

 _She's hot,_ a base part of Sara said, unprompted. Sara couldn't deny it, but she didn't let herself focus on that. Hard not to notice it. Hard to ignore. _Down girl!_ Yes, the woman was hot, and Sara could only imagine how muscular the Black Canary might be under that-

 _Goddamnit Sara!_ Mentally, Sara slapped herself.

"As for what I'm doing here, I need your help," The Black Canary said.

"You're a criminal, and you're asking _me_ for help." Sara scoffed. "Right. And I'm just going to give it to you."

"We both want the same thing, Sara," the vigilante said, calmly. "Justice for the people of Starling City. You're willing to bend the rules to get that. I just bend them more than you."

"You send people to the emergency room on a regular basis, from what I've heard, and you're working with a murderer. You _break_ the rules."

"Maybe. But that means I can do things the police won't or can't. I can help people the system has failed. People like Peter Declan."

Sara blinked, taking a moment to place the name. "Peter Declan? The guy who killed his wife four years ago? He's guilty." _But if she's bringing him up..._

The Hood hadn't made any mistakes yet, now had he? And neither had this woman. And...

_They brought Martin Somers down. If it hadn't been for them, he could have gotten away. Or his lawyers could have even gotten him off, even with the possibility of the assassin flipping on him..._

They had done something the police couldn't do, and they'd dealt out justice for Victor Nocenti.

"He might not be. His wife worked for Jason Brodeur - exactly the sort of man who could and would have someone killed to protect his money. I think Camille Declan was going to blow the whistle on him for dumping toxic waste into the water. I just need a lead. Some stone the police didn't turn over. We have just under 48 hours to save his life." The Black Canary slowly started to lower one hand. "I'm going to take out a phone," she declared carefully. Sara kept her gun ready, finger on the trigger, as the vigilante reached into her coat and pulled out... a phone, which she tossed lightly onto Sara's couch.

"I haven't even said I'm agreeing to do anything for you."

"You can turn that over to your tech people. They won't get anything useful off of it. It's too encrypted. If you decide you want to help me, the number is programmed in." Before Sara could react, the vigilante had slipped out the window, onto the firescape, and then... gone.

Sara raced to the window, looking down, trying to get a glimpse of the escaping vigilante, but...

There was no sign of her. Sara let out a deep breath, turning around, pulling away from the window.

Her eyes fell onto the phone the Black Canary had left her.

 _There's really only one thing I can do with it._ She couldn't give it to her dad, to the rest of the police.

_I... I trust her._

Sara didn't know why, but she did.

**The Foundry**

**October 28th, 2012**

"Hello, Sara," Laurel said, knowing the phone itself would disguise her voice. "If you're tracing this call-"

"No, I'm not." Sara said quickly, and Laurel held back a sigh of relief. _Thank god._ She knew when Sara lied, and this wasn't it. She knew Sara... but it had been five years.

_But she's still Sara, at the end of the day._

"I looked into the file on the Declan case," Sara went on. "According to Peter Declan, on the day of the murder, Camille Declan went to her supervisor about the company dumping toxic waste. But the supervisor, Matt Istook, told the police - and testified in court, it looks like - that he didn't talk to or see Camille at all that day."

"You'd think Peter Declan would have a better lie, if he was the one who killed his wife," Laurel pointed out, already searching for the man's address and plate number on the computer. _Thank you, ARGUS._ Laurel didn't know why ARGUS had decided to let Oliver keep a limited access to their systems, but she wasn't about to complain one way or the other.

"When you have fingerprints, blood, motive and the murder weapon, it's easy to imagine someone spinning a desperate lie," Sara pointed out. "But if there is something else to this, if Camille Declan really was going to blow the whistle..."

"Then that means Matt Istook lied," Laurel concluded. "Which means someone needs to pay him a visit."

"I don't need to know," Sara said quickly. "I'm breaking the law enough as it is," she took a deep breath, then, "God, I can't believe I'm saying this... but - if Istook does give you anything concrete... there's a defense attorney that owes me a favor. She's good. She might be able to help... delay the execution, at least. Or _something._ "

"I'll be in touch. Keep this phone handy," Laurel replied, hanging up, and texting the name and address to Oliver.

**Queen Mansion**

**October 30th, 2012**

When Laurel had gotten Istook's name, Oliver had hoped that would be enough - he'd gotten the file from Istook, he'd delivered it to where Laurel told Sara to get it...

And the courts had said it wasn't enough. Not enough to stop the execution, not that late in the process. So he'd taken a more direct route - gone straight for Brodeur.

It had nearly been too late - but Brodeur had told him about the man going to the prison to kill Declan for good in the midst of a prearranged prison riot.

Oliver had to rush to Iron Heights, break in, subdue a guard and borrow his uniform, and he'd only _just_ managed to save Declan's life.

But it had worked out - and from what he'd heard Brodeur's fixer say to the police as he'd slipped away from the prison, Brodeur was about to be in a great deal of legal trouble, and Declan could look to be freed soon.

So in the end, it _had_ worked. Barely.

"Declan's going to be fine," Laurel told him as she finished buttoning up her blouse.

"Did the League teach you how to read minds along with everything else?" Oliver stood up from his desk and walked over to her, leaning in to give her a quick kiss before pulling back, taking one of her hands in his.

"It was pretty obvious. The Black Canary talked to Sara last night - Brodeur's man is flipping on him, and Declan's execution has been put on hold while they investigate everything. It might take a little bit, but he's going to be free." She smiled slightly. "You saved his life."

"Couldn't have managed it without your help," Oliver pointed out.

"That's why we're partners in this, and everything else," Laurel pointed out, and then it was her turn to kiss him. Oliver took the opportunity to put his arms around her waist and pull her close, deepening the kiss - though eventually, they had to pull back.

"I love you," Laurel murmured.

"I love you too," Oliver replied, resting his forehead against hers for a moment.

**Queen Mansion**

**October 30th, 2012**

If the Declan thing had been a little too complicated, then things with Diggle... well, if the fact that the other man was standing in the living room was any indication - things had worked out more or less as planned on that front.

"Here about the bodyguard job? Because the new guy, he just, _vhoop_ , left," Oliver made a throwing gesture as he spoke.

"No," Diggle shook his head. "I'm here about the other position." Diggle started to walk towards him, "Just to be clear, I'm not signing on to be a sidekick, to you or your girlfriend."

Oliver shook his head, "I wouldn't ask you to be. Full partnership."

"Good. Because you two were right - fighting for this city needs to be done, and nothing I do or don't do is going to change that."

"Very true," Oliver agreed quietly.

"You two say you're fighting a war. War comes with casualties, Oliver. But if I'm there, I might be able to make sure there's less of them. Including you two."

"I'm not looking for anyone to save me, Diggle. Neither is Laurel."

"Maybe not, but you need someone to anyway. Because neither of you know what war does to a person. Whatever you went through on that island... you don't know."

 _All five years, I fought a war, Diggle._ But he was right that this was a different kind of war, different from what he'd done in Lian Yu, different from Laurel's experiences in the League...

"So, I'll help you - with all of it. Including saving you both, if it comes to that," Diggle held out a hand, and Oliver took it.

The moment lasted for only a few seconds - and then the front door burst open, and Detective Lance called out his name.

"Oliver Queen!"

Oliver turned - Lance, his partner and two uniformed cops were walking in, and Laurel was coming down the stairs.

  
"Dad?! What-"

"Detective Lance, you can't just barge in here-" Walter started, walking into the foyer, indignant, but Lance interrupted him.

"I have a badge, a gun, and probable cause that says otherwise.”

"Dad, what the hell are you doing!?" Laurel demanded, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

"Laurel, I need you to stay back," Lance replied softly, before turning back to look at Oliver.

_Well... finally found the obvious clue. Now is a better time to do it than when I'm in the middle of something._

"Oliver Queen, you're under arrest under suspicion of murder, assault, trespassing, obstruction of justice and acting as a vigilante," Lance's tone was professional, detached.

"Are you out of your mind?! You think I'm the _Hood?_ " Oliver shook his head. "I know you've always had issues with me and Laurel-"

"Oliver, don't make a scene," Lance interrupted. "I have to follow the evidence where it leads, and right now it points right at you." Oliver struggled just enough to be convincing as the officers forced his hands behind his back and cuffed him.

"You can't do this, Dad!" Laurel pushed past the cops. "You promised you were done with -"

"Laurel, we have video evidence that points to your boyfriend being the Vigilante. I can't stop doing my job just because a suspect is dating my daughter. Please, _don't_ _make a scene._ "

Laurel locked eyes with Oliver, and Oliver nodded. This was all according to the plan.

"It'll be fine, Laurel. I'm innocent, and whatever 'evidence' your dad has can't make me into something I'm not!" He glared at Lance.

"I hope for Laurel's sake you are innocent, but in the meantime, let's go. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be provided to you by the public. Do you understand these rights as I have described them to you?"

Given how Detective Lance genuinely seemed just a little bit apologetic about having to arrest him, Oliver slightly regretted using him as a prop like this.

But it had to be done. Oliver needed to make sure the possibility of him being the Arrow was completely discredited.

And so...

Arrest.


	7. The First Trial Of Oliver Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Still not mine.
> 
> Thanks to WilOzSummers for beta-reading

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 7: The First Trial of Oliver Queen

_Before the truth finally came out, there were many theories as to the identity of the Hood - or, the Arrow, as he eventually came to be known. Digging through old blog posts and tweets in lost corners of the internet show rampant speculation as to the vigilante's identity, and yes, the suspicious timing around Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance's return to Starling City and the sudden appearance of two vigilantes made many curious._

_Still, most of the time, it was relegated to conspiracy theory and baseless theorizing. Proof was thin on the ground. Those few times 'proof' was found... well, then someone ended up on trial._

_Before his retirement and the final official pardon of the Arrow, Oliver Queen would be put on trial for being the Arrow three separate times, and nearly brought to trial another two. The first one happened less than a month after Oliver's return to Starling City._

_But this one - this one Oliver Queen had planned for._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**Interrogation Room, Starling City Police Department**

**October 30th, 2012**

"This is a mistake," Oliver said, not for the first time, looking Detective Lance in the eye.

"I need to ask you a few questions for the record," Lance started, ignoring Oliver's words. "Have you ever been arrested before?

Oliver frowned, "Several times, you know that. You were the one who arrested me one time. For public drunkenness. Not assault, not murder. You know I'm not capable of that." Oliver shook his head, "I am not this - this crazy arrow shooting vigilante!"

"You're right," Quentin agreed. "I do know you, and I'm having a bit of trouble wrapping my head around the idea of you being the Hood. But I have video evidence and a lot of circumstantial evidence that points to you being this guy. Because you being the Vigilante fits the information pretty well." Quentin started to tick the points off on his fingers, "One, The Hood shows up right after you come back to Starling City. Two, he conveniently is on hand to save your life from those attempted kidnappers. Three, he robs Adam Hunt at the same time as your party right across the street. And four, you vanished completely after the shooting started at the Unidac Industries auction, except for security camera footage that shows you with a green hood."

"That's hardly proof of anything! I ran into the stairwell when the shooting started, saw the duffel bag and I thought it belonged to the shooter. I grabbed it, looked inside and saw a hood. And as for the rest - you could say the same thing about Laurel! There's another vigilante in the city - I saw the news report about what happened at the docks - there was a woman in black, _helping_ the Hood. If I'm the Hood, then she could be the other one." Oliver shook his head.

"Unless you think she isn't noticing me slipping out of bed every night to shoot arrows at people!"

Lance's expression darkened a little, and Oliver found himself wishing he'd phrased that better. Yes, Quentin Lance no doubt knew that Oliver and Laurel were sleeping together, but it's not something you actually bring up in front of your girlfriend's father.

"Laurel isn't being interrogated here, and we don't have any video evidence tying her to anything," Lance said after a moment to gather his thoughts.

Oliver let his expression show a 'sudden' realization. "You came after me on such flimsy evidence because you were afraid if you didn't, your bosses would put someone else on the case. Someone who _would_ arrest Laurel. Because the police are probably under a lot of pressure to deal with this vigilante, to show they're on the case."

"The evidence isn't exactly flimsy, Oliver." Lance countered, not responding to Oliver's accusation. _He doesn't need to._ "If you just found the hood in the duffel bag, where is it? Where's the bag? Did you take them home with you?"

Before Oliver could answer, the door opened.

"I want to see my son!" Oliver looked up at the sound of his mother's voice - she practically stormed into the interrogation room.

"I'm in the middle of an interrogation, Mrs. Queen," Lance said calmly.

"Detective Lance, I know you have problems with my family, but what on earth would possess you to arrest my son without any evidence whatsoever?!"

"I _have_ evidence, and solid grounds. I have to follow the evidence, wherever it leads!"

"And it conveniently leads you to Oliver - you spent five years harassing us, and now you're back at it again!"

"You can present your evidence to Oliver's attorney when she gets here," Walter added sternly. "Until then, your interrogation is over."

It didn't really matter which lawyer defended him, as long as they were halfway decent at their job. Once he made bail, this would all be sorted out.

"Sure," Quentin closed the case file. "You have twenty minutes," Lance left, closing the door behind him.

Oliver closed his eyes a moment and let out a breath.

"Detective Lance appears to be on a personal vendetta," Walter suggested, but Oliver shook his head.

"I don't think that's it, at least not on purpose," Oliver shook his head. "He promised Laurel he'd work on his issues with us dating, and he's been pretty good about it. He does have video evidence that shows me holding a green hood and he's acting on it now so they don't take him off the case and come after Laurel too."

"It's good that you want to give him the benefit of the doubt, Oliver," his Mother started placatingly, "but Quentin Lance blamed the entire Queen family for Laurel's death for five years,"

"And for the collapse of his marriage, I know, Sara told me," Oliver finished. "But that's not what this is about. Not on purpose..." Oliver sighed. "We just need to prove to him - and his bosses - that _I'm_ not the one that's running around the city in a green hood, shooting people."

**Starling City Police Department**

**October 30th, 2012**

"Sara, what the hell is Dad up to?" Laurel didn't bother with any prefatory remarks or greetings. She didn't even need to fake her annoyance and anger. ' _Don't make a scene'. What, does he expect me to just say nothing when he arrests my boyfriend?_

"I have no idea," Sara replied, bewildered. "I'm not on the anti-vigilante task force, and he didn't tell me before he arrested Oliver. I don't know what the hell he's thinking. I'm almost thinking Dad's just going after Oliver because 'he's not good enough for you'." Sara held up a hand, and Laurel realized she'd started to glare. "You know I never agreed with him there. Hell, I had a crush on him too, at one point."

_Nice to have that confirmed._ Not that Laurel had ever really felt threatened on that front - Oliver had strayed a few times before the Queen's Gambit... but with her own sister? Even he'd never do that. He'd still thought of her as kid, in a lot of ways.

"I figured that part out," Laurel replied, smirking just a little. Then she shook her head. "Dad promised he'd leave Oliver alone, that he'd stop thinking Oliver wasn't good enough - or at least stop saying or doing anything about it." Oliver was good enough - more than good enough - for her. It was a toxic idea, for that matter, the notion of someone being 'good enough' for someone else. Love wasn't a prize for being some moral paragon or highly capable.

"I don't think Dad thinks _anyone_ is good enough for either of us... but still. This is more than just veiled threats and muttered comments. Dad has some reason to believe it's Oliver..." Sara shook her head. "The Lieutenant and even the Commissioner have been on him to find the Hood, show some proof that the SCPD is better than some vigilante. But..." Sara trailed off again.

"Dad doesn't submit to pressure when it comes to solving crimes," Laurel finished, and Sara nodded. "This is insane - he arrested Oliver and did a perp-walk in broad daylight in front of all the cameras... someone is going to think Oliver _is_ this vigilante... and do something about it."

That was the most dangerous part of the entire plan. That someone with a grudge against the Hood, that someone who had some reason to want the Hood dead...

_Or worse, someone who knew about the List - whoever hired those goons to kidnap him, Tommy and me..._

Oliver could take care of himself, but still...

"Dad's hardly going to just let Oliver be at the mansion without anyone there onsight if he's allowed bail," Sara pointed out. Sara put a hand on Laurel's shoulder. "Oliver's going to be fine, you know that? He's innocent _and_ he can afford the best lawyers in the city. Pretty hard combination to beat."

Laurel let out a breath. She knew this would work out in the end, that Oliver would be back at the mansion, back by her side in a matter of hours once bail was allowed and posted, but...

The threat of being separated from him for... for good. Less than a year after she'd found him again...

She was handling it worse than she'd thought she would.

Laurel took and let out another deep breath.

"I know... God, I know. I didn't even take the L-SAT's and _I_ could get Oliver off these charges with half my brain tied behind my back, but..." She shook her head. "We need to talk to dad, find out what he thinks he's doing."

**Sara Lance's Apartment**

**October 30th, 2012**

Somehow, by unspoken agreement, her dad and her sister had decided that her apartment was neutral ground for them to argue about Oliver being arrested.

Sara was starting to wish they'd picked somewhere else. Somewhere she _wasn't._

_Yes, Laurel's right, Oliver is obviously innocent, but I'd really rather not have a fight with Dad when I see him at work everyday!_

"...if you still had a problem with me dating Oliver, you could at least have gone back to making snide comments every time his name came up in conversation!" Laurel half-shouted. "Not arrested him for something he obviously didn't do!"

"There's video evidence of him with a green hood at the Exchange Building during the shooting, Laurel!" Her dad shot back, his voice raised just as much. Sara hoped none of her neighbors were in. "There's the fact that the Hood started his activities after you two came back to the city, and a lot of other very suspicious coincidences connecting him and the Hood."

"Then am I this other Vigilante? The one in black?" Laurel countered as she turned, stalking away from their dad. "Or am I just so unobservant I don't notice that my boyfriend is getting out of bed every night and gallivanting in green all over the city, playing Robin Hood!"

Sara resisted the urge to laugh as 'gallivanting in green all over the city playing Robin Hood' caused an image - unbidden - of Oliver dressed as the lead character of _Robin Hood: Men in Tights_.

_I can't imagine him singing either._ Oliver had things he was good at. Singing was... not one of them.

Sara tried to imagine Laurel in the outfit she'd seen the self-styled Black Canary wearing just a few days ago... she couldn't see it. _Plus, if she was the Black Canary, that would mean I thought my own sister looked hot. Blech!_

"That's exactly the problem, Laurel!" their father explained. Sara watched him close his eyes for a moment and take a breath, then he went on. "We have this video evidence, we have this suspicious timing, these other coincidences. If _I_ didn't act on all that and do something, the Lieutenant, the Captain, the Commissioner - they’d think I was holding off because Oliver Queen is dating my daughter. They'd have taken me off the case and assigned someone else to it. Someone who would arrest you right along with Oliver!"

"Because you're absolutely right," Laurel turned when their father said that, and even Sara did a double take. _Dad, admitting he's wrong?_ He'd done it a few times, but they had both inherited their stubbornness from him. "Oliver is a lot of things, most of them things I don't like, but he's not a killer. And I raised you better than to cover for him if he was. But to someone else, someone who doesn't know you? If they decide Oliver is the Hood, then yes, they'll get to the next conclusion than you're this... Banshee, and then you'll be arrested too."

"So yes, I arrested Oliver on the video and some circumstantial evidence. As long as your boyfriend doesn't do something stupid like take a plea bargain, he's going to be fine. His family can afford the best lawyers."

Sara watched her father lay out his logic for arresting Oliver, and it made sense... he was playing the politics of the case, knowing Oliver would get off and then he'd be able to go back to trying to find the real vigilantes. He was... compromising the law, or at least... playing fast and loose with the idea of what the police were supposed to do.

_Well... I never expected Dad to do something like that..._ Then again...

Well, Sara's father had done plenty to protect her from her teenage and young adult... excesses, before she'd knuckled down and focused on becoming a police officer. Covered for her, made sure she was never arrested or even cited or anything like that. Called in favors with judges and other cops.  


_If he hadn't, I'd never have been able to become a police office, so..._ if there was one thing that would get Dad to compromise his principles, it was Laurel and her. And at least here he wasn't covering anything up.

"Dad..." Laurel said softly. Sara watched her sister walk back towards him and hug their father tightly. "Thank you. I'm sorry for..."

"It's alright," their dad said after a long moment, returning Laurel's hug. "Given how I treated you dating Oliver before... I don't like him... not sure that'll ever change. But you do, which means you must see something in him that makes him worth it. So I'm trusting you to know what's best for you when it comes to him, alright?"

Laurel smiled, "Alright."

**Queen Mansion**

**October 30th, 2012**

Getting an ankle monitor had not been part of the plan, but they could still work with that. It wasn't like he'd have been able to get away from his own party for long if he wanted to maintain public plausible deniability.

This wasn't about just beating the criminal case, but about making sure public opinion was that the Hood wasn't Oliver Queen. So no criminals decided his family was a good target.

"Any questions?" The officer said as he closed the monitor around Oliver's ankle.

"Yes. I am having a sizeable get together here tomorrow evening and there is a better than likely chance that it spills into the outdoor pool." Oliver was unsurprised by the looks on Tommy and his mother's faces. _Given how much mom cares about image when it comes to High Society, you'd think she'd follow the logic immediately._

"Pool deck's fine, step on the grass, they're sending a SWAT team to forcibly subdue you,"

"Thank you officer," Walter led the policeman to the front door.

"A sizeable get together?"

"Gee, Mom, question my judgement more loudly," Oliver remarked. "I'm confined to this house for the foreseeable future, and I may as well make the most of it. And - we should make this party themed," Oliver added, as if just thinking of the idea. "I'm thinking... prison - Burning Man means _Shawshank Redemption._ " He gestured a bit grandly, "The invite says... 'come before Oliver Queen gets off.'"

"Maybe a party isn't in the best of taste," Tommy started, and Oliver blinked.

"Who are you and what have you done with Tommy Merlyn?" Oliver stood and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. "The entire city saw me in handcuffs being marched into the police station. So they're wondering if maybe I really am the Vigilante. Let's show them I'm not by showing everyone how little we're worried about the trial. By having this party." He dropped his hand to his side.  
  
"But I _am_ worried, Oliver!" his mother raised her voice just a touch. "This isn't a DUI we can just pay a fine for and more or less sweep under the rug."

"Yeah, but I actually _did_ the DUI... and the peeing on the cop, and the punching the paparazzi asshole," Oliver pointed out emphatically. "I'm innocent of this... psycho murderer thing. I'm not worried, Mom, and you shouldn't be either." He looked back over to Tommy. "So what do you say, Tommy? Let's plan a party!"

Tommy let out a small sigh and Oliver watched Tommy give his mother a put upon expression, as if to say 'I can't stop him."

_Nope._

**The Glades**

**October 30th, 2012**

Laurel wasn't sure why she was dropping in on Sin every few days - she'd delivered the girl's father's last thoughts - of her - done what she'd promised four years ago... but she stayed at it. Looked out for the girl, when and where she could. She'd contemplated seeing if she could arrange some safehouse for Sin, somewhere she could stay every night in relative (at least) safety, but she didn't think Sin would accept the offer. Not yet, anyway.

"One of these days, I'm gonna see you before you drop down in front of me," Sin remarked. "Or maybe just strain my neck always looking at the rooftops."

"I wouldn't be very good at my job if you were able to see me that easily," Laurel pointed out smirking. As she usually did, she was just wearing a mask over the upper part of her face, with the blonde wig, rather than the hood and nearly complete facial covering of a full League uniform.

With Sara, she'd taken that extra precaution, just in case her sister could have picked something up. Next to Ollie, Sara and her Dad were the people in Starling who knew her best, and she couldn't take any chances of them finding out.

_At least not yet, when it comes to Sara._ Laurel wasn't sure if she could ever fully bring Sara in, but she wanted to. She just had to keep working with her, as appropriate, until the time came when she could tell Sara the truth, and know she'd accept it.

Sin shook her head, "I'll figure you out, one way or another. Oh, speaking of - those thugs you beat up the other night? One of their buddies is putting the word out - they're gonna have some sort of scum meeting about working together to take you down." Sin tossed a piece of paper and Laurel caught it. "Couple days, that address."

"I'm terrified," Laurel said deadpan, then, "I didn't ask you to spy for me. It's too dangerous."

"I live in the Glades. Dangerous and me are neighbors." Sin shrugged, "Besides, I just heard it. Friend of a friend, hear things from people. Word gets around about you - you're what everyone is talking about in this part of town."

"Good things?"

Sin shrugged again, "People aren't sure. You're riling up a lot of the bastards, making them angry. But you're making them afraid too, so... balances out. If you keep putting them in the hospital at the rate you're doing things... they'll be too busy healing broken bones to do anything." Sin laughed.

"That's the idea," Laurel nodded. To a point, anyway. It was one thing for Oliver to engage in his one man - even if it wasn't exactly one man - crusade to kill the elite that were poisoning Starling City, but it was another to try and treat all the symptoms by herself, or even with Ollie's help.

"But that's it?"

"You've only been at this for like a month," Sin pointed out. "I think people are afraid you'll get killed or just... go away, and things will go back to normal. Anytime someone tries to do something for the Glades, they always leave in a fucking hurry."

"I'm not planning on leaving the Glades behind anytime soon," Laurel promised.

Sin cocked her head to the side, "So Oliver Queen isn't the archer, then."

Laurel blinked, "What makes you say that?"

"You're too calm for someone whose boyfriend is on trial."

"I've told you already, the Hood isn't my boyfriend. He's just... a fellow traveller." _The last thing either of us needs is people thinking the Black Canary - the Banshee - is a way to get to the Hood or vice-versa._

  
"Yeah, yeah," Sin gestured dismissively. "Occasional common interests and all that shit. You say he's not your boyfriend, but you've got the hots for him, at least. I mean, under that hood and all the rest of that green, he's got to be _fit_ to do all the crazy shit he does. You want a piece of that."

_I'm already getting a 'piece of that'_. Laurel couldn't deny that Oliver was 'fit', but still.

"He's not my boyfriend, and I don't know what he looks like under that hood. But I doubt he's some spoiled rich kid."

"I hope the Hood isn't Queen. I like what you're doing, here in the Glades. I like that you aren't killing... but the people he's been going after - glad someone is standing up to the rich assholes in this city. If that means some of them die?" Sin laughed darkly, "Fuck 'em."

Laurel couldn't accept the death quite that casually, but she could hardly judge Oliver, given her own murders. And... she didn't see the deaths he had to cause as much loss, in most cases, that much was true.

"And you called _me_ cold not too long ago," Laurel noted, without reprimand.

Sin just shrugged yet again. "What can I say? Eat the rich fuckers."

**Queen Mansion**

**October 31st, 2012**

"Muller's been parked in the Warehouse district of the Glades for 45 minutes," Oliver observed, handing the phone back to Diggle. _Damnit._

"Good place for an arms deal. So how do you want to handle this? We drop a dime on Muller to the cops?"

Oliver shook his head, "No... the Hood is going to interrupt their deal."

"Oliver, you can't leave the house," Diggle's voice was calm, but he sounded very much like he wanted to yell.

"I can," Laurel pointed out, closing the door behind her. "The buy is going down?"

Oliver nodded, "I was hoping it wouldn't yet, but..."

"It is what it is," Laurel shrugged. "I'll head back into the party, duck out in a few minutes and borrow your suit and bow."

Diggle looked from one to the other, "This is your plan? The whole time?"

"We were hoping it wouldn't have to be stopping an arms deal, but Muller doesn't move on our schedule," Oliver confirmed. "The idea was just to have the Hood show up somewhere with enough witnesses for word to get back to the police, while there were a hundred plus witnesses  -and as it turns out, a tracking anklet - that can testify as to where Oliver Queen was.”

"You can shoot a bow and arrow too?" Diggle didn't sound skeptical so much as surprised.

Laurel nodded, "Not as well as Oliver, but I can beat him in close-quarters, so it balances out. Swords were what I used on the Island," _And elsewhere,_ Oliver added mentally. "My tonfas are less lethal, which is why I use them now."

" _Swords_? This is the 21st century. What the hell happened to you two on that island? Who else was there? You don't use swords when hunting game."

"Some other time, Diggle," Oliver cut in firmly. He took one of Laurel's hands in his. "You've got this?"

"I've got this. This was always going to have to be the plan," Laurel pointed out. "I can wear your hood... I'm not sure you can wear my outfit," she added with a smirk. Oliver heard Diggle barely suppress a chuckle at what was an admittedly amusing mental image of Oliver in the 'Black Canary' outfit.

"Next time, fill me in on the plan so I don't think you're crazy to take being arrested so casually," Diggle commented, just a little sourly. "If I'm going to be your partner, then I'm your partner."

Oliver looked over at Laurel, who shrugged, then, in Russian, "He's right."

"Yeah," Oliver replied in the same language, then back to Diggle, in English, "You're right. I'm used to only trusting Laurel. But you are our partner, not a sidekick. I'll make sure you're in the loop. Promise."

"Good," Diggle nodded. "Best get ready to leave soon, if you want to make the meet," he added to Laurel.

**Queen Mansion**

**October 31st, 2012**

"Tommy!" Sara called out to her friend over the music, who was just coming back from dancing with some admittedly hot girl Sara didn't recognize. "Can I borrow you for a moment?"

Tommy shared a few whispered words with his apparent conquest to be, who giggled, but let him go, waving a bit as he walked towards her. "What's up?"

"Can we talk somewhere a bit away from all the noise?" Tommy nodded again and they ducked into one of the mansion's hallways. "I wanted to talk to you about Oliver - has - has he told you anything? About... what Laurel and him went through on that island?"

Tommy's mood dropped visibly as he shook his head, "No. Just a whole lot of vague and an implication of _really_ not wanting to talk about it. He avoids the subject like I avoid commitment," Tommy chuckled at his self-deprecating joke. "Laurel tell anything to you?"

"Pretty much the same. Evasive. But it was... something. The night she came back, when she stayed over at my place, I - I woke her up from a nightmare - she attacked me with some throat jab thing. And then when those triad assassins came after me at my apartment a few weeks ago - Laurel fought one of them off with kitchen knives!"

"Your dad did always insist you two learned self-defense," Tommy pointed out, chuckling a little. "I was on the receiving end of a few examples of that growing up, you might remember hearing."

Sara did remember, and under other circumstances, she might have shared Tommy's chuckle, but not now.

"Oliver took a polygraph in front of the DA before the party... I dunno, hoping it would convince her to just drop the whole idea, I guess. She asked him about the island... about all the scars he has." She hadn't seen Oliver's, but she'd seen her sister's. "He said that he and Laurel weren't actually alone on the island and -" Sara inhaled. "That they got the scars because the people there _tortured_ them."

"What?!" Tommy half-shouted, then took a breath of his own and, "They were tortured? What- what the hell?"

"That's what he said, and the polygraph bore it out," Sara confirmed. "I mean... I wondered how she could have hurt herself so badly, some of those injuries wouldn't likely be from accidents, but..." Sara trailed off, unable find the words.

"They're not gonna talk about it, you know that," Tommy pointed out softly. "Neither of them are the biggest sharers, never have been."

"That's true," Sara acknowledged. "I just... what am I supposed to do with this information, knowing someone tortured my sister? Dad's going out of his mind over this information…” Sara dropped her head into her hands for a moment, letting out a deep, if brief, sigh. "What I _want_ to do is find whoever hurt my sister and Oliver and... and fill them with lead."

"Probably not the best of plans," Tommy pointed out. "I... I have no idea what the hell to do with this information... and it sucks," he agreed. "Jesus christ..."

"We knew it wouldn't be an easy adjustment after five years..." Sara reminded him. "But... god, I wish they'd talk to a therapist... or something. But as long as they won't..."

"We'll have to do what we can," Tommy agreed. "God, this kills the mood," he held up a hand before Sara said anything. "But Oliver and Laurel are more important than getting my party on."

**Queen Mansion**

**October 31st, 2012**

"Well, Mr. Diggle, you certainly earned your salary tonight," Quentin Lance said, putting down his phone. "This guy was clearly a professional, from the looks of things. High quality black market weapon, no ID, prints not in the system..."

"Oliver!" Laurel burst into the room, rushing over to the couch. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Diggle took care of him, and your dad was right behind. How did you know I was in trouble?" Oliver looked back at the detective.

"When you were struggling with the guy, you broke the ankle monitor," Lance explained, then he looked over to his daughter. "Laurel, where were you? Oliver told me you went off after you two had an argument, but I tried calling you-"

Laurel didn't miss a beat, to no surprise of Oliver's and shook her head, "I borrowed Oliver's motorcycle, went for a ride. Yes, in the dark, yes, I wore a helmet, yes, I know how reckless that was." She preempted any lecture her father might have. "I just... needed to clear my head."

"This is your fault, Detective," Oliver watched as his mother very nearly got up in Detective Lance's face as she pointed at him accusingly. "By publicly accusing my son, you made him a target!"

"I did what was best with the evidence we had at the time," Lance replied levelly, after a sharp inhale. Then he crouched down and removed the ankle monitor from Oliver.

"What-?" Oliver feigned surprise.

"The Hood was across town, breaking up an arms deal, while you were still here at this party. Plenty of witnesses put you here, so... DA is dropping all charges."

"Oh thank god," Oliver's mother let her steely composure crumble a little - just a little.

  
"For what it's worth, I'm glad you turned out to be innocent, Oliver," Quentin said. "I'll be out of your hair in a minute, but I'd like to have a word with my daughter, first, if that's alright?"

Laurel nodded and got up, walking out into the hallway with her dad.

"You know, it kind of would have been cool, if you'd been this... badass vigilante guy," Thea said, sitting down on the coffee table and looking over at him.

"Sorry to disappoint. I'm just your normal, boring brother," Oliver smiled.

"You're a lot of things, Oliver... including sometimes a killjoy, but boring isn't one of them," Thea disagreed. "And I'd rather have my brother actually be around and alive and not in prison than have you be some crazy murderer guy."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, Thea. I promise."


	8. Pride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Arrow. This gets really repetitive, doesn't it? I don't even know why I keep doing it, but it's habit at this point. I think it probably dates me as a fic writer pretty well, doesn't it?
> 
> There wasn't much to work with in Episode 6, and part of the delay for this chapter was me trying to squeeze at least more than two scenes out of the episode, but there just wasn't enough for me to do. So most of the Episode has been skipped over into moving on towards the start of Episode 7. That's also why the chapter is shorter than many of the most recent ones.
> 
> Again, as I've said before, the Oliver of this fic is in a slightly better place - sometimes more than slightly - when it comes to his mindset because he's just not as _alone_ as he was in canon season 1. He doesn't have the guilt of Sara's death (since he went with Laurel and Laurel is alive), and he has Laurel, and he's in a relationship with her - he can lean on her for support, in a way he didn't have anyone in canon season 1, and since she went through her own hell in the last five years, he's got someone he can really connect with when it comes to the island.
> 
> So, please bear that in mind as to how Oliver behaves.
> 
> Thanks to willozsummers for beta-reading

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 8: Pride

_Even today, with vigilantes in every street and superheroes on every corner, it seems, people still commit crimes. Muggers still mug, robbers still rob, murderers still murder, the corrupt remain... corrupt._

_Some have argued that it suggests that the deterrence model of preventing crime isn't really as effective as it claims to be - all this deterrence, and people still commit crimes. They never think they'll be caught, they never think that far ahead -_

_Or they're just so desperate they don't even care._

_In the Reston family, you found all three._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**The Foundry**

**November 14th, 2012**

It was shallow, but Laurel loved to see Oliver working out shirtless. Sometimes she was pretty sure he did it just for her viewing pleasure, rather than because he actually needed to be shirtless for that particular bit of exercise, but she didn't mind, not even a little bit.

And, from a purely aesthetic level, she enjoyed seeing _two_ attractive shirtless - or nearly so, in Diggle's case - men spar in front of her, which meant it was always worth pausing whatever she was doing to watch when Diggle and Oliver sparred, either unarmed or with some kind of weapon.

She watched, taking a drink from a bottle of water as they practiced.

"Gah!" Diggle recoiled as he took a thwack across the jaw from Oliver, hand going to his mouth as he recoiled.

"Variable acceleration," Oliver explained. "Fighters work at the same pace. You switch it up, throw your opponent off his game."

"Ah - that was nice. Where'd you learn that?" Diggle got back into position.

"His name was Yao Fei," Oliver answered.

"He give you those scars?"

"One of them," Oliver answered, cryptically. Laurel wasn't sure why he decided to be so cryptic about the Island. When Diggle had asked her, Laurel had just flatly said she didn't want to and wasn't going to talk about it right now. Diggle hadn't been thrilled at being shut out, but he'd accepted it. Oliver just kept dropping little bits of information - like breadcrumbs.

_Then again, maybe that's the idea?_ She made a mental note to ask him if he was planning something more with Diggle by doing that - or if he just enjoyed being cryptic.

"One of these days, you're going to be straight with me about what happened on that island," Diggle told Oliver firmly, and then they were back to sparring, their weapons clashing against each other.

"Maybe -" Oliver got under Diggle's guard and hit him on the side, sending the other man to his knees. "But not today," he added as he walked off the mat. He handed the tonfas to Laurel. "He's all yours, if you want a go at him."

"Oh no, getting my ass whooped by you once was enough for me," Diggle said, getting back on his feet. "I'll keep practicing on Oliver until I've got a chance at lasting a minute against you."

"Oliver doesn't even last that long against me that often," Laurel pointed out with a smirk.

"I said a _chance_ , didn't say it had to be a good one," Diggle set the tonfas down. "You two have some pretty sweet moves."

"We do," Oliver agreed. "Tonight, I'm gonna use them on him." He brought up several pictures and news articles on one of the computers. "Scott Morgan. He runs most of the power and water in the Glades - jacks up the prices when people can't pay, shuts them down even in the dead of winter."

"Which is at least a month away," Diggle countered. He brought several different articles up on the screen - bank robberies. "These guys started in Keystone, moving west, been hitting banks along the way. This morning, they hit Starling City Trust. Shot an off-duty cop. He's in a coma and the doctors say it's a coin toss whether he'll make it."

"If he's a cop, SCPD will be all over it," Oliver pointed out.

"They will," Laurel agreed, getting up and joining them, looking over the report on the screen. "But if these guys are willing to kill to get their money, then it's probably going to be ugly. Could be hostages, more police officers getting shot, civilians dying in the crossfire?" She shook her head.

"These aren't gangs in the Glades," Oliver pointed out.

"I just focus on the Glades because I'm guaranteed to run into criminals there - they're still not really getting any smarter about how they do things, thankfully." Sin had heard a few more rumors that they might be trying to, but they were scared by the way she'd taken down that one meeting and left everyone unconscious in that warehouse filled with stolen goods and tipped the cops off. Only a few were likely to get any jail time, but every bit counted.

"Your call," Oliver nodded. "If you need any help, I'll back you up," Oliver acquiesced.

"They hit two or three banks per city," Diggle explained. "They're already planning their next job. I think you might need to work together on this one - they're armed, dangerous and they know what they're doing."

"They know how to plan a bank robbery, not how to plan for me," Laurel disagreed. She supposed it probably sounded arrogant, but she knew what she was doing, she knew what she was about. "If we're going to do this, I'll need to get some information from the cops." She looked over at Oliver. "No, I won't be asking for it." Sara was still a police officer, and they protected their own. She wouldn't agree to give info to a vigilante, not when it came to this.

"That's even a possibility?" Diggle looked at her. "You've got a cop in the know?"

"A detective, and she doesn't know who I am behind the mask, no. But I approached her for information on Peter Declan's case. She helped out and didn't try to turn me into the cops."

"That's pretty risky-" Diggle started, then cleared his throat. "Wait, don't tell me -the detective you approached is your _sister_? Laurel, that's a risky play. If there's anyone in the city who could-"

"I wore a hood when I talked to her, and used a voice changer," Laurel cut in. "She may be a police officer, but Sara has a rebellious streak, still. She cares more about what's _right_ than what's legal."

"That's a big gamble you're taking," Diggle pointed out, but nodded after a moment. "You know her best."

**Queen Mansion**

**November 17th, 2012**

In the end, Diggle had been right - it had taken them both to take down the Restons. At least, not without killing them. Laurel had pulled her punches, literal and metaphorical, when they'd hit their second bank and they'd gotten away because of it.

But equally, they'd tried to avoid shooting anyone that second time around too. Bank robbers, yes, but they weren't intentionally trying to be murderers. That wasn't the goal, for all that had nearly happened in that first bank.

Oliver hadn't needed Felicity to do something as simple as find Derek Reston, but he'd used her for the same reason he had before - he wanted to see how she responded to his request. She'd accepted his blatant lies without too much questioning. Oliver wasn't sure if that was because she was just incurious, didn't want any part of whatever weird shit he was up to, or suspected something was up - or even had guesses in the direction of the truth - and wasn't telling the police for one reason or another.

If she was incurious, she'd be safe to keep going to, as long as that lasted. If it was the second one, she would probably stop agreeing to his strange requests for help so she _wouldn't_ get drawn into whatever he was doing.

He leaned to somewhere between two and three, so far. Felicity was easily smart enough to run the whole IT division, and then some, based on all her aptitude scores, and even her foot-in-mouth disease wasn't enough to explain why she didn't have a higher position.

Unless, of course, she just didn't want it because she was more or less content where she was.

But he'd found Derek Reston and...

Gotten exactly nowhere.

"Thinking about Derek Reston, still?" Laurel asked, sitting next to Oliver on the bed.

Oliver nodded, "He had a second chance - a good one. For him, and his family. Fine, in the end, he realized it, when he was bleeding out right in front of me, but he didn't take it. First time I've offered someone a _real_ second chance, as opposed to just a 'I won't kill you' and he let his pride kill him." At least, his pride had nearly killed his son. Derek Reston had taken the bullet for Kyle Reston - though given how unstable his son had become, Oliver wasn't sure how that would work out, in the long run.

Laurel raised an eyebrow. "Oliver, the pot is calling, it seems to think you're the kettle." Oliver turned to look at her, eyebrow raised, furrowing his brow. Laurel chuckled. "Oliver, you're trying to take on the people on the list all by yourself - yeah, you're letting me help, you've brought Diggle in, but you could easily just use the list, find the evidence and let the police and the press take them down."

"It's not like the people in this city don't already know just about everyone on the list is a corrupt bastard," Oliver pointed out.

"You still don't have to be the one to take them down personally. You want to right your father's wrongs yourself, because _you_ have to be the one to do it."

"And you're trying to rid the Glades of crime single-handedly," Oliver pointed out. "If the problem is pride, I think we're both guilty."

Now it was Laurel's turn to frown, but after a long moment, she nodded. "Yeah... I suppose there is something to that."

**Outside The Queen Consolidated Building, Starling City**

**November 28th, 2012**

Some vague, indefinable instinct that Oliver had honed over the last five years had been all the warning Oliver had had to watch the other motorcycle and its rider - and that instinct proved right as he saw the rider pull out a gun, aiming it at his mother and whoever it was she was having a conversation - an unpleasant one, by the look on her face - with.

"Get down!" Oliver shouted, dismounting the motorcycle and running towards his mother.

Shots fired - one, two, three four - all into the man, who fell, knocking his mother to the ground. He watched in almost slow motion as she hit her head on the concrete, _hard_. His mind flashed back - to the Island, to Hong Kong, to Russia - in quick succession, but he was back in the now seconds later when he reached his mother.

"Mom," he grabbed her hand and gently lifted her into sitting position. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright," she said, sounding pained, shocked, confused.

"Are you hurt, are you sure?" his words were spoken nearly simultaneously as her refrain of 'I'm fine'. Two of the company's security people were already rushing towards them. Oliver gestured at one, "Call 911!" He started to his feet... he had to chase the motorcycle, get a glimpse of the...

Oliver was only a few dozen feet away when he realized just how pointless it was, even if he tried to outflank it, even with how fast he could run, even with the motorcycle unable to take top speed this far downtown at this time of day... - and how much he _couldn't_ run after the motorcycle and leave his mother there, on the concrete, as they waited for 911.

But he had to -

He had to _try_. He couldn't do _nothing_.

But he couldn't just-

Muttering a curse in Russian, Oliver was back to his mother's side, holding her up in her seated position. He didn't know if she had a concussion or not, but he had to make sure she didn't close her eyes in the meantime.

_Have to call Thea..._ her first, then Laurel. Then he'd have to try to reach Walter, even if he might not get the message just now, given the time difference between here and Australia...

With his free hand, he pulled out his phone, dialing up Thea.

"Ollie, I told you to just-" Thea started, assuming the conversation's topic, but Oliver cut her off.

  
"Get one of the guards to take you to Starling General," he said quickly.

"What happened - is mom-?" Thea asked, and he could practically hear her sitting up as she said that, stiffening.

"There was a shooting - she didn't get hit," Oliver double checked, to make sure there had been no grazing shots, no blood, no wound she hadn't realized she had, and there were none. "But she fell, I think she might have a concussion-"

"Thea, I'm fine," his mother tried to insist, her eyes drooping a little.

"Mom, mom," hurriedly, he snapped his fingers in front of her eyes, "don't close your eyes, okay?"

"I'm on my way," Thea said, her voice echoing his own urgency, then she hung up.

_Where is that ambulance?!_ He dialed Laurel, and only got her voicemail. Not bothering to leave her a message - she was spending the morning and afternoon with Sara and her dad - Quentin had pulled a few strings to get both himself and his daughter to have that time free so they could spend the day with Laurel - since she probably had the phone on silent, he fired off several text messages, one after another in quick succession, then put the phone away.

"Mom, stay with me," he said, snapping his fingers again.

**Starling General Hospital**

**November 28th, 2012**

"Ollie - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put my phone-" she started, but Oliver shook his head.

"It's not like you could have expected something like this would happen," he pointed out. "You came as soon as you heard." He pulled her in for a quick hug, resting his forehead against hers for a long moment, taking a deep breath.

"Is she alright?"

"The doctors say she has a concussion - someone's going to have to stay with her, make sure she doesn't fall asleep, that there are no complications." He frowned. "And I can't just throw it all off on Thea," he added quietly. "Which means-"

"Which means I'll look into it," Laurel murmured. "You just focus on your family."

"I can't just _do_ nothing!" Oliver countered in a low hiss. "Or ask you to just do this for me."

"You won't be doing nothing, Oliver!" Laurel pointed out, pulling back from the hug a bit, looking her boyfriend in the eyes: "You need to be there for her - it's not like we both don't ditch our families too much as it is, doing what we need to do - but this is one time you **can't**. You'd do the same for me if Sara, or dad, or mom got hurt and I needed to stay with them." _Pride._ It's his mother, he has to be the one to solve it.

_You'd feel the same if it was your mom. Or if it was Sara, or dad._ Laurel couldn't deny that, but that didn't change the fact that Oliver was being stubborn and unreasonable here.

Oliver was about to argue the point with her more when his expression changed completely and he looked past her. "Detective Lance, Detective Hilton." Laurel turned to see her father and his partner walking up the hallway towards them.

"Sorry to interrupt," her dad said as they drew closer. "They assigned us the case," he explained. "Your mother alright?"

Oliver nodded, "Mostly. Concussion, but... it could have been a lot worse. My head of security is on the way here. I want a twenty-" Oliver started, but her dad raised his hand.

"We'll put someone on her while she's still here in the hospital, but she wasn't the target - the guy she was talking with was," he explained. "Paul Copani - guy had connections - mobbed up to the eyeballs connections."

"Why would my mother be talking with-" Oliver started, asking the question before Laurel could, but then a new voice interrupted. Thea, from the doorway to Mrs. Queen's room.

"She said he was trying to get the contract for the new applied sciences building. She was trying to get him to just leave her alone." Thea stepped out into the hall, arms crossed in front of her chest. She nodded at Oliver, "Mom wants to talk to you."

Oliver nodded, pulling away from Laurel completely. "Did you get in touch with Walter?" Thea shook her head.

"Mr. Queen," Detective Hilton said quickly. "Did you get a look at the shooter?"

Oliver shook his head. "He had a helmet on." He went into the room.

"You're going to get the guy that did this?" Thea asked Laurel's father and Detective Hilton.

"Gonna do our best," her dad answered. "Laurel, a moment?" he jerked his head down the hall, and Laurel followed him away from Thea and from Mrs. Queen's room, while Detective Hilton went into the room, probably to ask a few questions.

"Don't go telling your boyfriend this, but Paul Copani worked for Frank Bertinelli." Now that was a name Laurel recognized immediately. Most people in Starling City knew that name - he'd been through a highly publicized racketeering trial seven years ago, but gotten off thanks to slimy lawyers abusing the system and several cops that _had_ to have been bribed to mishandle evidence.

Everyone in Starling knew the rumors he was a major player in the mafia on the West Coast, for all his public claims to innocence, and the lack of any new trials - yet.

As a Detective's daughter, Laurel knew they were more than rumors.

" _The_ Frank Bertinelli?"

Her dad nodded. "And he's not the first of Bertinelli's guys to get hit. Someone's been taking down his crew from the outside in - Organized Crime thinks we're looking at the start of a mob war - they think the Triad's going after him. FBI might even be getting involved." He frowned, "Your future mother in law might not have been the target, but if whoever is going after-"

"Future mother-in-law? Dad, I think you're getting _way_ ahead of us-"

"Hopefully," he agreed with a soft smile. "Doesn't change the fact that you and Oliver are gonna tie the knot sooner or later."

_Assuming one of us doesn't die first..._ it wasn't something they'd discussed - when and  how would she ever broach it to him? She didn't even have the first clue. And all that aside, they didn't have the time to even...

To even contemplate that.

But her dad was right - at least, that's what Laurel _hoped_ would happen, eventually.

"Look, you two managed to live together, just the two of you, on a deserted island for five years without killing each other." He chuckled, "If that doesn't mean you're meant for each other, I don't know what does."

_Except that's not what happened, dad._ Not even close. Spending years thinking the other was dead...

"Oliver and I aren't ready for anything like that, Dad," she chided him, masking her thoughts with a half-forced chuckle.

"Doesn't mean it isn't coming," her replied with a much more genuine chuckle, then let out a sigh. "I gotta get back to work. Just - be careful, okay?"

"You know me, dad." Laurel replied noncommittally.

"Which is exactly why I'm worried."


	9. The Bertinelli Effect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Mine, Arrow is not.
> 
> This has not been beta-read, because I've sat on this for an inordinate amount of time and I needed to finish and publish it or it would never get done. No excuses for the delays, just... blockage, delays and the normal bullshit.

Vigilantes' Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 9: The Bertinelli Effect

**The Foundary**

**November 28th, 2012**

"Are you really going to start taking on entire the mob?" Diggle shook his head, "Even for a pair of Vigilantes as good as you, that's a tall order."

"Not the entire mob, just the Bertinelli family," Laurel disagreed, pulling up news reports on the computer.

"And whatever family has been whacking his guys," Diggle pointed out. "The SCPD will handle this. You should be back home with your boyfriend. His mother did almost get killed."

"Which is the whole point," Laurel explained. "If I'm not doing this, Oliver would be doing it himself, and Mrs. Queen needs her children with her right now." She shook her head. "If I hadn't promised Ollie I'd find whoever did this, he'd probably be trying to do something stupid, like infiltrating the Bertinelli family to find out who is behind this." She pulled up the reports on all the other deaths that had happened in Bertinelli's organization over the last few weeks.

Heavy earners - one of his key accountants, another who was suspected in a lot of resale of stolen goods, among other things, and the last who was believed to have handled a lot of the Bertinelli's racketeering. Each one, dead, and a huge hole in Frank Bertinelli's finances and his organization had been blown open by their deaths.

"So his mother gets shot at, and his plan would be to process that by going undercover with the mafia?" Diggle shook his head with a grim chuckle. "I suppose that does sound like him from everything I've seen from you two so far."

"Glad we're so predictable," Laurel remarked, rolling her eyes slightly. She made a note to drop a package off in the mail shortly - a secure phone for Sara. One that was a direct line to the 'Banshee'. Untraceable, unhackable, but one that would ensure she had an easy way to get information from her sister. It wouldn't arrive for a few days but if Laurel's own plans didn't work in the meantime, she could borrow the SCPD's leads on the case.

Hopefully.

"You're still looking at stepping right into the middle of a mob war, without your boyfriend's backup. Like I said, that's a tall order," Diggle looked over her shoulder at the computer screens. "Looking into Bertinelli's daughter?"

Laurel looked over at the second screen, "No. Just pulled up all mention of them in the papers," She looked over the article nonetheless. Laurel doubted Helena was involved in Bertinelli's organization - based on everything she knew about the mafia, especially the 'Italian' ones here in the States, the women weren't really involved in the running of the show. They played a role, yeah, but not a direct one. Usually.

Still, it might hold a useful bit of - no. Nothing. Just a report on the death of her fiance, Michael Staton. Tragic, but nothing useful. She moved onto another report.

"So which family do you think's going after him? Seems a bit odd they're taking this in broad daylight, going after Copani like that."

Laurel shook her head, "I... I don't think it's another family. Based on what Oliver said, the shooter went with a pretty wild spray. She was aiming at Copani, and didn't hit Mrs. Queen, but she certainly could have if things had been just a little bit different." She knew professional killing, and this was not it. The League would have killed whoever this was for sloppiness, had they been a member or prospective member.

There were few sins the League really deemed worthy of death amongst its own members, but that was one of them. You killed your target, and anyone you had to to achieve that end, but no one else. No one.

"Some sort of lone operator? Who would be crazy enough to try to take on the entire family?" Diggle grimaced. "Apart from you two."

Laurel turned to look at him, "You think we're crazy?"

"You dress up in fancy costumes and masks and take on crime in the city with arrows and tonfas," Diggle shook his head. "You're a little crazy, both of you." Then he smirked, "but at least you're _my_ kind of crazy. I'm the guy who signed up for tour after tour with the 105th Airborne. You don't join and stick with airborne forces unless you're a little crazy yourself."

"Plus, you signed on with us," Laurel allowed herself a small smile as she said that.

"Very true. So what are you thinking? Someone wants revenge on Bertinelli and has been going after people associated with him?"

"That's my guess. What I can't figure is how they knew to go after his three biggest earners. There's tons of other people suspected of being associated with him - people everyone _knows_ is mobbed up, even if they can't be convicted for it. But our killer has gone after three of his most important guys? How would they know those three in particular?"

"Which suggests an inside job," Diggle concluded. "But then that brings it back to this not being a professional killer. Assuming you're right."

"I'm right," Laurel replied flatly. "I know professional killers, and this wasn't one. Not unless they're deliberately faking it, anyway."

"And you're not going to elaborate as to _how_ you know this so well?"

"Nope," Laurel's tone remained flat. "That still leaves us with no easy way to find out who is doing this, short of trying to find a list of everyone Bertinelli has pissed off and going through them one by one."

"Not necessarily," Diggle pointed out. "Whoever is doing this had to be keeping a close watch on Bertinelli, on his whole family. Which means that they're probably still doing it. So... keep an eye on them, you might be able to guess what our killer is up to."

"It's a start. I'll have to try to get in touch with Sara again tonight. See what the police know."

"I know a guy who works in Vice, served with him a few months before he got transferred to a different unit," Diggle said, pulling out his phone. "Maybe he'll be willing to give me something."

"Be careful. You're not going to be wearing a mask and using a voice modulator when you meet with him. One way or the other, we need to figure this out quickly, before Bertinelli decides this is the work of one of his rivals - or that he at least needs to lash out at one of them, prove he's still in control." _And then we have a mob war._

She wasn't going to shed a tear for Bertinelli or his goons, even if she'd have rather they ended up in prison, but whoever it was that was going after his men wanted vengeance. She could understand that, respect it. But that pursuit of vengeance was murder, and even more, it was risking innocent lives in the crossfire. If a full fledged mob war broke out, even more people were going to get killed.

**Russo's, Starling City**

**November 28th, 2012**

Diggle's friend had given them a lead - the Bertinelli's were arming for a fight - putting money in a war chest, because they figured a war was on them. Especially with their earners being hit. People were ending up in the hospital as Nick Salvatti, the number two in the Bertinelli organization, cut a swath through everyone who owed the family money or favors, everyone they could squeeze.

Which was why she'd come to Russo's. According to Diggle, it seemed like they were next on the list.

"Break his fingers," Salvatii told his goon, gesturing to the owner of the small Italian restaurant. It looked like it had a nice ambiance, when it wasn't being rustled up.

"Leave him alone!" The woman - wife? Daughter? It was hard to say - said, lunging for the owner.

"Break hers too," Salvatti replied coldly, but before either order could be followed through on, Laurel kicked the door wide open, tonfas in hand. For a split second, she debated using her sonic device, then changed her mind. She'd rather not cause more damage to the building than she had to.

"I'd suggest you let them go," Laurel said in a low voice.

"You." Salvatti smirked. "Seen you on the news. They call you the Banshee. Guess I'll get to be the one to kill you," He reached into his suit, pulling out a gun, but Laurel was already on the move, leaping over a table and grabbing the goon that was holding onto the owner. With a quick wrenching of his wrist, she pulled the mobster away, bending his arm behind his back, a snap and a cry of pain leaving him out of the fight for the moment.

Salvatti raised his gun - Laurel kicked the mobster forward, sending him stumbling towards his boss, and ducked under a wild stab from the other mobster goon, who had pulled a switchblade.

The two civilians had dived behind the bar, cowering, but Laurel didn't pay them any extra mind. It was a simple matter to evade the wild, inexpert swings of the goon in front of her - he wasn't technically _bad_ , but she was League of Assassins trained - and smash her tonfas into his leg, sweeping it out from under him, sending him sprawling. Laurel kicked him in the side, sending him skating across the floor a bit.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Salvatti take aim, and fire - she dove, the bullets flying over head - and then...

The windows behind Salvatti shattered, bullets flying into his back in a quick staccato. He staggered, propelled by the force of the projectiles, then fell forward to his knees, and a figure wearing a motorcycle helmet stepped in, wearing leather biking gear. Several more shots quickly sailed past Laurel and into the goons she'd already taken out, either killing or severely wounding them.

_The shooter._

Laurel didn't give them time to finish Salvatti off - she wouldn't mourn the mobster, but there were bigger problems. Salvatti was Bertinelli's number two guy. If anything was going to finally set the mob war off, it was that. He might already be doomed to being dead already.

"Put the gun down," Laurel said coldly, flatly. But she didn't give the shooter time to respond.

 _I don't really care what your beef with Bertinelli is. But you're putting too many people at risk._ Laurel flipped forward, over Salvatti and landed in front of the shooter. Surprisingly, they didn't try to shoot, but lunged at her with their free hand - Laurel ducked under the blow, which was surprising in its skill. There was nothing wrong with this - this woman's hand to hand.

 _Huh._ Laurel wasn't sure, but as she swung back at the shooter, blocked her tonfa blow by bringing her arm in on the inside of Laurel's swing, she was pretty sure. Yep. The shooter was a woman.

_And Oliver assumed a man. Typical._

Laurel dropped her tonfas for the moment, lunging forward, feinting one way, then the other, and finally coming up from the center, punching the woman in the chest - she staggered back, but stayed on her feet. Laurel took the chance, grabbing at the barrel of the gun in the woman's other hand, ripping it free from the woman's grip and tossing it aside.

What followed was an intense match, hand to hand with a woman who was not as practiced, not as skilled as Laurel, but knew her fighting well. Duck, dodge - she knew how to take a blow and roll with it, avoid falling, avoid staggering too much. She couldn't land anything more than a glancing hit on Laurel, however, and Laurel knew she had the edge. But she didn't have time to really press that edge.

 _Let's go for the risky play._ Once more Laurel feinted, as if about to punch the woman in the tinted window of her helmet, but instead she dropped, rolling the side, kicking her legs out and catching the woman's left foot, sending her sprawing painfully, almost as if she'd tried to do the splits. Laurel leapt to her feet, grabbed her tonfa and, in a smooth movement, pinned the woman's right arm between the two metal rods, right at the elbow. Then twist, and _snap._

To her credit, the woman managed to avoid not screaming in pain, and it would be a clean break. She'd heal. She'd end up in prison, but she'd heal.

The woman tried to kick out at her, tried to get back to her feet, but Laurel grabbed her other arm and pulled the woman up, holding on tight as she yanked the woman's helmet off.

The face underneath the helmet was pretty, the woman's long dark hair falling down around her face, somehow still looking surprisingly good despite being in the helmet. It was a face Laurel had just seen on her computer screen in passing just earlier that day.

The shooter, the one taking down the Bertinelli Family's top earners, wasn't from another family. Wasn't an outside observer.

She was on the inside.

It was Helena Bertinelli. Frank Bertinelli's daughter.

"Huh." In a split second, Laurel made a choice. She might still turn this woman in to the cops, but first.

With the butt end of one of her tonfa, Laurel sent Helena reeling into unonsciousness.

**Warehouse, The Glades, Starling City**

**November 28th, 2012**

Laurel hadn't even needed to debate taking Helena Bertinelli to the Foundary. Her trainers in the League would have slit her throat if she'd even considered it. Though she hadn't planned on it being necessary, soon after she and Oliver had set up the base in the Foundary, she had set up a small space in the corner of a long-abandoned warehouse, hidden behind a false wall she'd set up, for interrogating people if she couldn't do it where she got them.

Laurel unscrewed the top of an ice-cold bottle of water and poured it over the bound - with tape over her mouth - Helena Bertinelli, watching the woman wake up and immediately start to struggle against her bonds.

"Miss Bertinelli," Laurel said, using Oliver's voice-scrambler again. She made a mental note to get one of her own and then went on, Helena saying nothing, but she seemed to be no longer actively trying to break free.

_Biding her time for an opening, likely._

"I'm curious - why have you been trying to take apart your father's organization piece by piece?" Laurel reached for the tape over her mouth, but didn't remove it just yet. "If you try to yell, I'll just knock you out again and drop you off in front of a police station." Whatever Frank Bertinelli had done to piss his daughter off, Laurel would not mind his death. What she did mind was the mob war Helena was starting.

 _And if nothing else, I know Oliver won't mind killing him._ Some part of her wondered about the moral gymnastics she was going through, refusing to kill but also perfectly willing to let Oliver do it, even do it for her. On the other hand, she had no moral objection to the death penalty - even administered by vigilantes.

She just couldn't keep doing it herself. Even if it had meant abandoning the League, and all that could come with it. Including the few people there she'd actually enjoyed the company of, in a sometimes warped sort of way.

"On the other hand, if you tell me the truth, I can make sure your father is dead before the end of the week, and I won't turn you in to the police." Laurel ripped the tape off, not especially concerned with how it felt for Helena.

"If I wanted my father dead, I'd have already killed him myself. He can't die until he's seen everything he loves torn down around him!" Helena said quickly, her voice seething and crawling with a venom Laurel hadn't heard...

Well, ever, really.

"And it's rich for a vigilante like you, _Banshee_ , to be threatening to-"

"First of all, It's Black Canary, not Banshee," Laurel corrected. "Secondly... I'm not mourning any of the mobsters you've killed. I may not kill, but I do work with the Hood. The problem is that you're starting a mob war, putting innocent people in the hospital - and soon enough the morgue."

Helena inhaled sharply, "That's - that's not... those are accidents. I'm not-"

"I figured," Laurel nodded. "But you still can't run around doing things the way you are. Why do you need to tear your father's network down so badly? Why is it important that he knows you're the one doing it?"

"Because he deserves it! Because he loves business more than he ever did me, or my mother. Because -" Helena cut herself off, and Laurel looked the girl over. She could see the hurt lingering deep behind Helena's eyes. The pain. The loss. The emptiness.

_Like after I though Ollie was dead... both times..._

"Your fiance. Michael Staton. Your father killed him."

"Salvatti did," Helena snarled, "But he'd only do it if my father told him to. They found - they found a laptop full of evidence, enough to put the entire family into prison for life. They thought -" Helena's voice hitched. "They thought it was his!"

"But it was yours." Helena nodded. "Revenge, then," Laurel nodded. "Jail was too good for him?"

"He'd just cut a deal. He needs to _suffer_ , and he needs to know I'm the one who did it, that I destroyed him." Helena's breathing was heavy and ragged, fury in every syllable, a rage at the world, at herself, and at her father.

 _Well, she's got a point about cutting a deal._ Laurel couldn't muster much energy to condemn what Helena was doing, or her final motives. Revenge was sloppy, but all too human. And Bertinelli and his minions didn't deserve much sympathy. Especially if he'd ordered the death of his daughter's fiance.

"Do you know why I go around in this outfit? Why I attack criminals in the Glades and beyond in distinctive, memorable ways?" Laurel asked, watching Helena's sudden confusion at the change in topic furrow her brow, even with as angry as she was. "Apart from keeping my idenity secret, I mean."

Helena just stared at her, the entire line of questioning apparently absurd to her.

"Because then they know the person going after them _is_ a vigilante, not a member of a rival gang, not someone inside their own crew. Because when groups of criminals fight each other, innocents get caught up in the middle."

Unbidden, Laurel's memory of a League mission floated to the top of her mind - a crime war had broken out between rival syndicates in Jakarta, and the spillover had been enough of a concern that the League had dispatched several assassins, including herself, to take care of the problem by killing enough people on both sides until the violence ended.

Before they'd gotten that done, hundreds of innocents had died or been crippled by the violence, caught up in the crossfire.

"They think you're the Triad, or a rival family," Laurel said. "You've been sloppy. Your aim alone is a -"

"What is this, Vigilante class?!" Helena snapped, "Are you going to lecture me on how to pick a codename too?"

Laurel resisted the urge to roll her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Your choices are simple - settle for Frank Bertinelli being killed or jailed - your choice - and leave Starling City, or to be handed over to the police. I'll make sure the Hood knows to tell him you send your regards before he dies."

"Leave Starling City!? You can't just-!" Helena started, but Laurel shook her head.

"I can and I will. After the damage you've wrecked in this city? I can't leave you running around unchecked," Laurel shook her head and uncrossed her arms, resting her hands on the handles of her tonfas. "So what's it going to be? Take what you can of your revenge and go, or prison?"

Helena said nothing for a long minute, then two, three, four. Laurel stood there impassively, watching, wondering if the other woman was trying to wait her out or something.

"Will the Hood make sure it hurts?"

"I'll pass that along."


	10. The Detectives Lance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own it.
> 
> Thanks to WillOzSummers for beta-reading.
> 
> A lot of Sara Lance here in this chapter. There's a lot I plan to do with her character down the line, and that does require a certain amount build up here. But we are closing in on a very important moment in the story - Chapter 11 will, hopefully, be a doozy for you all. For reasons you can probably guess by the end of this chapter.

Vigilante's Dawn

By Kylia

Chapter 10: The Detectives Lance

_Today, we all know that most superheroes and vigilantes operate in tandem with some arm of law enforcement, even if only unofficially. And that has, historically, always been true for the successful ones. The fact is, for all that vigilantes can go places and do things police can't, especially when dealing with other exceptional individuals, there are things that only police can do, as a rule._

_Without a direction or a target, it can be hard for a vigilante to redress a given injustice. Investigating a crime is much harder than beating up a bank robber when the crime is in progress, or containing some alien or superhuman menace. Even when it was unthinkable and illegal, police worked with vigilantes all the time. It was the only way they could get anything done, on either end, in all too many cases._

-Excerpt from "Age of Superheroes: The Dawn of the Vigilante," by Diana Queen, PhD Published by Starling City University Press, 2123.

**Starling City Police Department**

**December 16th, 2012**

"Sara, you got a minute?" Sara looked up from the case file she was going over as her father stood in front of her desk. She knew that look - it wasn't that there was something wrong, but there was something he wanted to tell her, something he wasn't sure how she'd react to. _Hm. Wonder what that could be._ She got up and followed him into one of the hallways.

"What's up?"

"The Commissioner is not happy about Bertinelli getting killed by the Hood. One too many high-profile deaths and one too many deaths when we'd have done a hell of a lot better to catch the guy and squeeze him. Commissioner wants me to assemble a team to focus on just catching this guy. Him and his girlfriend. I want you on it." Sara inhaled sharply. _Shit._

She still had that phone the self-styled Black Canary had given her. Sara had asked a friend in tech to look it over, and all she'd been able to tell Sara was that it had military grade encryption. The woman hadn't reached out again, and Sara wasn't sure what she thought of that. She didn't want to compromise herself as a cop even more than she already had, but...

On the other hand, she wanted to know more about this vigilante, understand why she could be so opposed to killing herself but work with the Hood, who had no problem with it at all. She wanted to learn more about the vigilante, in case the Banshee did start killing. Because then she would have to reconsider not telling anyone else about the meeting.

 _I could be suspended, or worse, for hiding it._ And she didn't want to disappoint her father with the truth coming out either...

And on yet another hand...

 _I helped save an innocent man's life by working with her that one time._ If she hadn't given the Black Canary Matt Istook's name... then Peter Declan would have been executed for a crime he didn't commit. And she couldn't help but feel like she could trust the Black Canary to do the right thing, even if she did it illegally.

 _But if it's illegal, it's not the right thing!_ Sara didn't know how she felt about it all, when she pressed herself. Because she **did** believe in the law. She did believe in the police department - it wasn't perfect, and the court system wasn't either, but there were good people working hard to keep the city safe. Her dad among them. He was a good cop. And he was right... going outside the law to seek justice was bad. In so many ways.

_And yet..._

All these thoughts ran through her head in less than a minute, but something must have shown on her face, because her father went on:

"This isn't because you're my daughter, and if anyone tries to say anything about that, you know they're wrong. I didn't cut you any favors in the department."

"Dad! I know! That's not-" Sara started, not even sure what she was actually going to say.

"I want you on the team because you're a good cop, a good detective, and I know you aren't one of the cops that secretly approves of what these nutjobs are up to."

 _Oh dad..._ Not that Sara didn't understand what he was saying. The Hood was targeting the scum of the city, people the police couldn't touch even though everyone on the force knew they were guilty of at least a dozen different crimes.

"I-" Sara started, then paused, took a breath and started again. "Dad... I'm not sure I - this is a pretty heavy offer. I'm not sure I want to drop working normal homicides to turn to just chasing one guy."

"Two," her father corrected. "If this 'Banshee' doesn't know who the Hood is, she knows _enough_ , anyway."

"She doesn't kill though!" Sara protested, before she could stop herself. _Shit!_ At her father's expression, she hurriedly clarified. "I'm not saying that she's not a criminal - she commits aggravated assault on a nightly basis, not to mention every other law she breaks. But she's not on the same level as this 'Hood', right?"

"She's aiding and abetting, Sara. She's just as bad as him in my book." Her father's tone was level, uncompromising. Then he gave her a small smile. "Look, take a couple of days, think it over. I'm not gonna be upset with you if you decide you just want to focus on regular homicides - like I said, you're a good detective. Great. But... well, not to play to your ego, but being on a team like this is the sort of thing that leads to opportunities. Gets you noticed."

Sara couldn't help but chuckle, "And you're sure you're just offering me this on the merits?" Not that she really believed otherwise. Her dad was too good of a cop, and too laser focused on catching the Hood - and the Black Canary/Banshee - to invite her on if he didn't think she could do the job.

"I'll think it over," she nodded. "Promise."

**Sara Lance's Apartment**

**December 17th, 2012**

"I just don't know if I want to take the offer," Sara said, sitting on the couch next to Laurel. "I mean, he's right, it's an opportunity to get noticed, maybe do good things for my career in the department long term, but I mean, I didn't become a detective for the attention or because I wanted to rise to the top."

Laurel smiled slightly at her sister and shook her head, "No, but you do like attention. Or at least you did when you were a teenager. _All the time._ " Sara made a mock-indignant sound and 'slapped' Laurel on her shoulder. Laurel only laughed and shrugged. "I suppose - do you have any ambitions about rising higher in the department? To Captain someday, maybe? Or even Commissioner?"

"Oh, fuck no to Commissioner," Sara said immediately. "I don't want a job that's as much politics as it is actually having anything to do with police work. More, with Nudocerdo running the show." She made a gagging noise as she said the name.

Laurel nodded, "I remember Dad complaining about him when the Mayor named him Commissioner to begin with, yeah. Always more concerned with optics than actually solving crimes..." She shook her. "But what about Captain? Do you plan to just be a Detective until you're old enough to retire?" She was genuinely curious - before Laurel had gotten onto the _Queen's Gambit_ , she'd always felt like her little sister was pretty directionless with her life, had no real ambition or goals. Which, sure, not everyone finds their calling in their early teens, like Laurel did when she decided she wanted to become a lawyer - before the _Queen's Gambit,_ before the League - but still. It had always left her concerned about Sara.

Now, though, Sara did have a calling. It was obvious Sara liked being a cop, liked solving crimes, and liked that she was helping keep the city safe. And she did believe in the law, in a way that Laurel once had, before her time in the Ivo, and the Island and the League had worn all that down a great deal.

"I don't know..." Sara shook her head. "I mean... I don't know if I want to spend my time behind a desk, ever. And I became a full detective less than a year ago, so it isn't like I don't have time." She took a breath.

"If I accept, a lot of other cops are going to think I'm only on the team because my Dad's in charge, even if I know that's not what's going on. And I'll be focusing on just one bad guy - well, two," she corrected. "And I don't know if I want to do that. Not when there's other crimes I could be trying to help solve... and..." she trailed off.

"The Hood is _wrong_. He's a murderer - fine, he's murdering guilty people, but it's still murder. And all it takes is for him to be wrong just once. Once, and he's killed an innocent person. And that - that's why we can't have a guy like him running around the city. So catching him is a good thing. Even if the people..."

"Even if the people he's killing deserve it?" Laurel offered after Sara trailed off.

"No!" Sara protested, "They don't deserve to die - well, not be summarily executed, anyway. They deserve to rot in prison, and if given the death penalty, they deserve to have their rights protected the whole way through, including an appeals process..." she frowned, "even if I sometimes think that whole process is overwrought, it's there for a reason - if _we_ get something wrong, there's a system. It's not perfect, not even close, but it's _something_. There's no check on the Hood. He needs to be stopped. So given that, shouldn't I help stop him, if given the chance?"

Laurel very carefully didn't react. She couldn't be surprised at Sara's response, or at Sara's views on the subject of the Hood. Nor would Oliver be. It did make her hope to eventually tell Sara the truth harder, though.

 _I tell her I'm the Black Canary, she's going to know Oliver is the Hood. And then... and then what?_ She could tell that Sara was conflicted, but that at the end, she seemed quite certain of where she fell on the spectrum of his final morality.

 _But life really isn't that black and white is it?_ It wasn't, Laurel knew. But Sara hadn't been through the things she had, hadn't had her ironclad, nearly inflexible sense of right and wrong warped and bent out of shape, nearly destroyed. She hadn't been forced to open her eyes to reality.

Sara licked her lip, suddenly nervous, and lowered her voice. "But all that - god, none of that is really the reason why I'm so... confused about taking the offer or not." She leaned in a little, almost conspiratorially, and Laurel could guess what Sara was about to say. She was curious what her little sister would have to say about the Black Canary.

Now she was about to find out.

"Look, you can't tell _anyone_ what I'm about to tell you. Not even Oliver - and absolutely not Dad."

"Of course," Laurel nodded, her words completely honest. Oliver already knew, and she couldn't imagine any scenario where telling her dad that she was the Black Canary was a good idea.

"The other one - the Banshee... she actually... she visited me. Here. Broke in, interrupted the power. Asked for my help - remember Peter Declan?"

Laurel acted as though she had to think for a moment, then nodded. "That guy who was wrongfully convicted of killing his wife, but got cleared after the real killer confessed?"

Sara nodded, "The Hood and the Banshee - they figured it out, the Hood is the one who left the killer for Dad to arrest after he tried to kill Declan in a staged prison riot. But the Banshee came to me, to ask for help, some clue, something overlooked in Declan's case."

"Wait, so you saw her? Up close?" Laurel feigned a mix of awe and incredulity. "While conscious?"

"I did. She was using sort of voice modulator or distorter, and wore a hood and stood in the shadows, but yeah." Sara suddenly smiled, "She did look kinda badass, too."

"Really?" Laurel raised an eyebrow.

"Really," Sara nodded. "And she looked like she was hot, too," Sara added thoughtfully, in a very appreciative tone. It took Laurel all she could to not choke just a little at that revelation. "From what I could tell, I mean."

 _Holy -_ Laurel compartmentalized the thought away, not wanting to linger on the notion of her little sister calling her - even if Sara hadn't _known_ it was her - hot in that tone of voice.

"And did you help her?" Laurel asked, getting back on topic. "Her and the Hood?"

"I gave them a name, and that name helped them find the evidence they needed to clear Declan's name," Sara admitted, her expression growing grim. "I aided and abetted two criminals - I should have turned the phone she gave me into evidence, I should have told someone the Banshee - the Black Canary, she calls herself - came to see me, I should have... done... _something_. And I didn't! I can't just join the team hunting those two down, not without saying something - and if I do, I could be suspended, removed from the force, charged... and even worse, the way _Dad_ would react..."

She shook her head. "With all that hanging over my head, how could I join that team?"

Laurel shifted a little, looking Sara in the eye. "Do you think you did the right thing, helping them that time?"

"I... yes!" Sara admitted. "They saved an innocent man. And... and I knew that I could trust her... my gut told me that, whatever else, I could trust the Black Canary." She sighed, "I can't say why, just... I felt like she was one of the good guys. But how can she be, given that she's helping the Hood kill people, just _letting_ him commit murder?"

"Didn't Dad always say a cop's gut was one of his most important tools?" Laurel asked. She was surprised to hear that Sara had just so instantly trusted the Black Canary - well, not entirely surprised, but to hear it like that. On some level, Sara must have picked up on their bond, or something. That had to be how she knew to trust the masked vigilante so easily...

"Yeah..." Sara admitted. "But he also said it can be wrong." She inhaled deeply, then let the breath out. "I - I helped a criminal. Even for a good cause. What kind of cop does that make me?" From the way the words spilled out of Sara's mouth, Laurel could only guess that she'd been holding that back for a while.

"But then... there is a word for cops that help criminals, right?" Sara asked rhetorically, her words coming out slowly. "Dirty."

"Sara, no." Laurel said immediately. "You said it yourself - they saved an innocent man's life. With your help. That's not being a dirty cop." She reached over and took her sister's hand in hers. "I know you... I know my sister. You're a good person." _Better than me_. "You believe in justice, in doing the right thing. That much I know." She shook her head.

"Whatever else, that's the truth. You aren't some dirty cop taking bribes, getting rid of evidence and killing witnesses - nothing even close." She gave her sister a quick but firm hug.

"I'm not sure it's that simple, but..." Sara returned the hug, then nodded. "Thank you. For believing in me."

"You're my sister, Sara. Of course I do."

**Adam Hunt's Apartment**

**December 19th, 2012**

Sara Lance looked at the dead body of Adam Hunt, at the three black arrows in his chest, tightly grouped and delivered with what had to be total precision at close range.

_Adam lost all his money. What does the Hood gain from coming after him again?_

It hadn't been an easy choice, but Sara had taken Laurel's words to heart - and the fact that, whatever her gut feeling to trust the Black Canary, the Hood needed to be brought down, reigned in. Murder was murder.

Especially this. Every other killing the Hood had committed had at least served a purpose. This was just... pointless.

On the other hand...

The arrows were wrong. Wrong color, and unless she missed her guess, the wrong design.  And it was a complete break of practice for the Hood to come back and try again.

"Copycat?" Sara asked her dad quietly as she walked over to him.

"Doesn't make sense for the Hood to be the one to do this," her father agreed. "But that grouping - this isn't some nut with a gripe and a bow he bought from the sporting goods store yesterday. Whoever killed Hunt knew what he was doing."

Sara nodded. She'd noticed that too - getting shots that tightly grouped, with a gun or a bow, took a high degree of skill.

"I'd say it could be a frame job, but if it was supposed to be that, wouldn't the arrows at least be the right color?" Sara looked at them carefully. "Then again, that wouldn't be public knowledge." She could think of countless people who would like to kill Adam Hunt. Even if they'd gotten their money back, the victims of Hunt's schemes were many, and offhand, Sara was fairly certain at least two people had died as a result of problems - usually medical in one way or another - from the loss of their money between the scam that stole it and the Hood returning it.

"Here's the real question though:" Sara mused, looking back at her father, "how are you going to tell Nudocerdo that we have a copycat archer who is just as good as the Hood?"

"God, don't remind me. He's on his way here already," her father grumbled. "Twenty bucks he decides to keep the copycat under wraps. Blame this on the Hood."  
  
"That's a sucker's bet dad," Sara replied with a dark chuckle. "I don't think this was anyone with a grievance against Hunt. Not a lot of archers this good, and there just happens to be one among or related to Hunt's victims? I mean, we should run them, but..." she shook her head. "I wonder if the Hood knows him."

"What, you want to call him up and ask him?" Her father replied sarcastically. "Think they hang out at Nutball Vigilante Club?"

"No, but the Hood had to pick up his skills somewhere. The odds of two unrelated master archers both showing up and gunning - well, bow-ing, I suppose I should say - for Adam Hunt?" Sara shook her head. "Have to be low chances of that." Then another thought occurred to her. "Or this could be a call-out. The archer that did this could be... well, taunting the Hood."

"Either way, unless we figure out who this Archer is soon, he's probably gonna drop more bodies," her father said. He was about to say more when Nudocerdo walked into the apartment. He nodded to them:

"Detectives." Then he turned to look at Hunt's body, stiffening a little. "What do we know?"

As her father started to explain, Sara ducked out of the apartment and into an empty stairwell, pulling the phone the Black Canary had given her out. She hadn't had cause to call the Black Canary since the Declan case, but now she did.

_She knows the Hood. And I think the Hood knows who our new killer is._

"Detective Lance," the distorted voice on the other end of the line said after three rings. "I was wondering if you'd ever call."

"Any chance you can put your boyfriend on the line?" Sara demanded in a low whisper.

"I work with the Hood from time to time, that's all," the Black Canary replied. "I assume this is about Adam Hunt?"

"You already know?" Sara asked grimly, expression flat, even if the other woman couldn't see that. "Maybe I should rethink assuming it wasn't the Hood." Even as she said it, she didn't mean it. Her dad was right - it wasn't the Hood.

"It's not that hard to know what the police are doing, Detective Lance," the Black Canary pointed out. "The Hood didn't kill him."

"Hunt didn't just sprout three arrows fully formed from his chest. Someone - someone as good as the Hood - shot him at close range with a tight grouping. This is related to him. The Hood have any friends from Archery School in town?"

"The Hood doesn't have friends," The Black Canary replied. "If there's another archer in town, we're your best chance to finding and stopping him, Detective Lance. We can do things, go places the police can't."

Sara shook her head, exhaling violently, "You want me to hand over evidence to you again? No. I'm not that desperate. If I find out there's a connection between this killer and you two and you're protecting him or yourselves by saying nothing? I'm turning this phone into the rest of the department."

"I'd think twice about that - the police would never get past the encryption, Detective. You'd be risking your career for nothing." The warning that was probably meant in the words was lost in the vigilante's tone, the distortion just making it all sound quite flat.

"That'll be my problem. If you and the Hood really are so good you can do it yourself, you don't need me to hand over evidence to find this guy," Sara pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up.

_I don't even know what I was expecting that to accomplish._

**The Foundry**

**December 20th, 2012**

Oliver had been as surprised as Laurel that Sara had refused to help them find the other archer, but that didn't mean they'd had no other options. Oliver had taken a page out of his girlfriend's book and sent a similar phone to Quentin Lance.

Unfortunately, that hadn't panned out immediately either. But now they had two leads out there. With any luck, one of the Detectives Lance would realize they had no other good option if they wanted to stop this guy before more and more bodies started dropping.

As if his thoughts conjured the call, his phone - connected to the one he'd given Quentin Lance - started to ring.

Oliver grabbed it and answered it before the Detective had a chance to change his mind about calling.

"Don't bother trying to trace this back to me," Oliver started flatly. "You'll never beat the encryption."

"There's a heating vent on the corner of O'Neil and Adams," Lance replied quickly, urgently and quietly. "You'll find what you're after there."

 _Right to the point. No surprise there._ He wondered just how much this hurt Lance to have to do - but it was exactly what needed to be done.

 _Assuming he's actually genuine._ While Lance was a good man, and not prone to deception, as far as Oliver could tell, he doubted that the Detective would be above laying a trap for the Hood, if he felt like it was his best play.

"It would be a mistake to try and set a trap for me, Detective," Oliver cautioned.

"I'm trading just about everything I believe in here because it's the only way I've got to get this bastard," Lance shot back, his voice heavy with disgust - at his own actions or at the Hood's, Oliver wasn't sure.

Oliver said nothing in response to Lance's words - what did you even say to that? - and then Lance went on: "And you've got 'till Christmas. And then, copycat or not, I'm coming after you with everything I've got." Oliver could almost _hear_ the force with which Quentin must have pressed the hang-up button after he said that, the anger in his voice nearly palpable.

_Five days to find and stop an archer as good as I am._

Maybe even better. That was a pleasant thought.

Fortunately, he wouldn't be hunting alone. But first, he needed to get an arrow from a heating vent. **  
**


End file.
